A New life
by GeekOfManyForms
Summary: Elisabeth Riley is John Watsons best friend and first love. When she shows up at 221B in need of a fresh start, what will happen between her and John's new best friend Sherlock Holmes? Will they discover that they actually have something in common? Could she be exactly what he never knew he needed? One thing is for sure, no one ever said starting anew is easy. Eventual M rating.
1. Chapter One

I looked out the window at the barely visible ground below me. It felt like I'd been on this plane for weeks instead of hours. A voice next to me spoke, effectively snapping me out of my thoughts. "Visiting London for business or pleasure love?" The voice came from a middle-aged woman with a kind and genial face.

My mind scanned her without a second thought. Lives alone, three cats and a dog, an obvious divorcee with no children. I made a small smile capture my lips. Id always been able to deduce the smallest things, things most people were to unobservant to notice. I don't really count it as a talent- after all, it's only being observant.

"Bit of both really," I finally answered, brushing amber hair from my eyes.

The woman nodded, clearly noticing I wasn't in a sociable mood, and for that I was grateful. I had too much on my mind, no doubt due to my narrow escape in America.

No…no I mustn't think about that, not here, not now. I looked around the plane hoping to distract myself, as I did observations made themselves known to me. I closed my eyes trying to center myself, if I didn't, I'd surely have a panic attack. Sometimes it all becomes too much, but I couldn't shut it off it was a part of me. My mind always moves too fast like a freight train running out of control. As I was taking deep breaths the pilot came on over the intercom alerting us of our descent into London. At last…I was home.

I kept my eyes closed as the plane started its nosedive. In my opinion, this was the worst part of flying. My hands gripped the hand rest no doubt causing my fingers to turn white from my tight grip. Finally, the plane jolted as we once again met the solid ground. I opened my eyes, glancing down at my hand where the withered fingers of the women beside me were patting my wrist gently. She smiled reassuringly before giving me a thumbs up.

As soon as the stewardess opened the door I was out of my sit sliding past my neighbor and grabbing my carry on which consisted of two small bags. I was out of the plane as fast as was humanly possible my claustrophobia finally getting the best of me. After being free of the plane I realized how hungry and in need of caffeine I was. Glancing to my right I noticed a Starbucks. I was elated to see it, living in America these past three years I'd become addicted to their coffees. After waiting in line I grabbed a coffee and a large blueberry muffin, letting out a sigh of relief I glanced around me, quickly finding myself a table in the back.

Sitting down I placed my headphones in and turned up the volume - successfully forgetting the world around me. I needed to make a plan, I'd left all of my possessions - apart for my three bags - in California. Looking in my wallet confirmed my worse fears, I was on the verge of being broke as well. I had two hundred dollars and an almost maxed out visa to my name.

 _He'd_ taken everything from me. I placed a hand on my neck and rubbed in a circle, trying to relieve a bit of the stress. No not everything, not yet. I still had my life and I was going to make sure _he_ never found me again. That's why I had to leave in such a hurry. If _he_ would have found out I would have been forced to stay. I could feel my nerves were getting the best of me so I slipped into my bag and grabbed a Valium for good measure. No one needed to see me in that state. Ok, I had to think now. I had to figure out my plan. I knew I'd chosen to escape to England because I needed to feel safe and at home again.

My family wasn't really an option they had disowned me when I decided to move to America with _him, a brilliant_ _mistake_ _that was_. What people do when they believe themselves in love. Never again will sentiment be my downfall. So since my family was not an option there was only one other person I could trust. Luckily he himself had just returned home.

John Watson my first love and best friend. I looked through my texts from him - finally finding the one I wanted. He'd very recently sent me his new address telling me to stop by for a visit whenever I came home. Be careful what you wish for John. With the address in hand, I made my way to the exit hailing a taxi.

"Where to love?" the cabbie asked eyeing me in the rearview mirror. I took a deep steadying breath.

"221B Bakers Street," I said.

Well here goes nothing.

John Watson here I come.


	2. Chapter Two

**_Thank you to everyone who's read and favorited this story. I really appreciate it. Reviews and favorites keep me going. Without them, I tend to get discouraged. So please review as much as you'd like. Well enough of this, on with the story!_**

I sat in the taxi staring up at the seemingly ordinary brick building. The dark green door glistened menacingly in the rain. Speedy's sandwich shop next door was lit up and bustling with customers. I shrugged, at least I'll always have good food nearby. As I sat there totally chickening out I noticed someone was standing at the window upstairs looking down at me. I suddenly realized how creepy I must look just staring at the building.

"You know, nothing gets accomplished by sitting," The cabbie said looking back at me.

I finally looked at the balding man. He had a nice gentle smile. My mind started deducing him but I mentally slapped myself, deciding to see the man and not the deductions. He was completely right, the only way to move on was to get up and move forward. "Thank you, Tom," I said slipping out of the taxi.

I chuckled at the shocked look he gave me at the easy use of his name one which I shouldn't have known. With a wink at Tom, I made my way to the front door. The gold knocker was slightly askew, I could tell it was deliberate - probably to irritate someone. The paint around the handle was chipped from multiple replacements _well_ t _hat doesn't bode well_ , I thought. Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door with phony enthusiasm. Shuffling could be heard on the other end as someone moved to open it. The smell of mince pies and the sound of violin music greeted me as an elderly woman answered the door.

"Can I help you dearie?" she said with a bright smile on her face. She was a lovely woman even at her age with blond hair and a gentle face. I instantly liked her.

"Hello, I'm Elisabeth Riley a friend of John Watson, is he at home?" I asked, giving her a genuine smile.

"Oh that's wonderful, we don't get many social visits do come in," she said ushering me inside. "I'm Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, not the housekeeper." she smiled.

I chuckled sensing she said that quite often.

The violin music was still playing with easy fluency. It was a beautiful melody I didn't recognize.

Mrs. Hudson noticed my interest. "That'd be Sherlock love, it sounds beautiful now but not so much at two in the morning."

Even though she tried to sound exasperated there was obvious love and endearment in her tone.

"John is just out getting the shopping, he'll be back soon im sure. In the meantime feel free to join Sherlock," she gestured upstairs. "He could use the company, been without a case for a week now," she finished with a slight grimace.

I gave her a nod as I climbed the narrow steps. I was now grateful I'd taken the Valium at the airport. My nerves were frayed beyond belief. The door to the flat upstairs was already slightly ajar so I decided I might as well just head Inside. I was greeted with the sight of a tall man with black curly hair in a dark blue dressing gown. He was standing in front of the window, he's violin placed gently under his chin as he played. He slightly swayed to the melody his eyes closed in concentration. I stood in the doorway allowing the music to wash over me, it's sad melody bringing unshed tears to my eyes.

After a few minutes, I realized he hadn't noticed my intrusion. So, I slowly stepped inside, placing my bags by the door. It had been years since I played but I still remembered not liking to be disturbed. I took in my surroundings while I waited for him to finish. To my left was a beautiful fireplace which oddly held a human skull and a stack of papers pinned down by a dagger. In front of the fireplace were two older chairs which looked comfortable and well worn in. Against the wall by the enraptured man was a table full of books and papers scattered about in well-maintained chaos. On my far left was a long couch where I decided to sit and enjoy the free concert. After about three more minutes - if my watch was to be believed- the man finally placed the violin on the music stand beside him, making a few notes on the paper attached to it. Ah, he's composing impressive, even after all my years of playing I'd never had the talent to compose.

"So, are you going to explain why you barged into my flat or should I ask Mrs. Hudson?" he asked glancing in my direction.

I jumped at his sudden ability to speak, a slight blush crossing my cheeks.

"I'm Elisabeth Riley, a friend of John's. Mrs. Hudson told me I could wait for him," I explained, barely speaking above a whisper.

"Do they not teach the ability to knock in America?" the coldness in his voice made me flinch.

"I'm sorry, you were busy and I didn't want to be rude. Your door was open," I mimicked his coldness.

"So you thought just barging into my flat and making yourself at home less than rude?" he said, taking a seat in one of the chairs. He placed his hands in the form of a silent prayer resting his fingers on his chin. His striking blue eyes ran across my body deducing everything about me.

"You know it's very rude to deduce people without their consent," I sneered.

I rose from my seat on the couch and went to stand in front of him. Crossing my arms as I tapped my foot rhythmically to annoy him. His head rose to meet my irritated gaze.

"It's my job to deduce, im the world's only consulting detective," he smugly said.

I rolled my eyes and continued to tap my foot on the floor.

"So you get paid to observe, im not all that impressed. Anyone can do that with the proper training," I said.

He quickly stood up and placed his foot on mine successfully stopping it from tapping.

"It's far from something that can be taught," he said, drawing out the last word.

I openly scoffed, I've been able to do that since the age of five, I was far from impressed. This man was irritating and very conceited. I disliked him immensely. I am a firm believer that you can know everything you need to about someone's personality within the first five minutes of meeting them. That is unless they are like _him_ a complete psychopath.

Sherlock drug me out of my reverie. "I assume you'd like a demonstration?" he said with boredom.

I sighed. "If you must."

"You and John Watson used to be in a relationship one that lasted quite some time. You've recently moved back here from America where you've spent most of your twenty's. Judging by the tan lines and the sun-baked hair, somewhere sunny," Sherlock said while pacing in a circle around me.

"You have a slight smell of salt accompanying your perfume so I'd say California probably LA," he finished, taking a sniff at the base of my neck which caused me to suppress a shudder at his close proximity.

"Yes LA, you're definitely fond of the ocean. Before you left you spent at least an hour standing on the beach," he said, ceasing his constant pacing to stop in front of me, crossing his arms.

I raised my eyebrows at his almost perfect observation, I hated to admit it but he was good.

I decided his ego needed no more stroking. "Wow, your soo good A plus, really fantastic," I said, clapping my hands in mock enthusiasm. His once smug smile evaporated and was replaced with one of shock.

"Now it's my turn," I said.

He stood before me shock still plastered on his face. "Sherlock Holmes, that's not your real first name is it?" I said, circling him just as he had me. "You haven't slept in a good twenty-four hours - that's an easy observation due to the purple bags under your eyes. You also haven't eaten in that time frame as well, judging from the strong smell of coffee and tea that's all your living off of." I mirrored his blatant abuse of personal space and leaned in close, sniffing his clothing.

"You've obviously been smoking but I don't smell it in the flat, so I'd say it's something you're trying to hide, probably from John. Lastly, you're desperately in need of a shower your starting to get greasy," I finished running my fingers through his curls. He froze as I did, obviously not used to the physical contact.

I stood facing him waiting for his reaction.

"Quite impressive Elisabeth, your clever. Something I didn't see in you at first. You tend to give off an air of stupidity," he stated as if he'd known me all my life.

He walked back to his chair and sat down. I pursed my lips, choosing to ignore his rude comment. I could already tell it was just something you had to deal with.

"So, was I right?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

I smiled at his shyness, _huh maybe he isn't a robot_.

"Almost entirely," I said sitting down in the chair beside him.

"John and I only dated for a few months. He _was_ my first love, though. But it wasn't meant to be. We work better as friends. Which we've been since we were ten. So I have known him for a long time, your analysis of the length of our relationship was right just not completely," I said tapping my fingers on the arm of the chair.

I couldn't get the melody Sherlock had been playing out of my head. He noticed and suppressed a smile. "Do you play?" he asked looking at the wall behind the couch.

"Not for years, my ex-didn't like it…I play the piano and violin," I mentally facepalmed annoyed at myself for mentioning _him_.

"Your ex...was abusive," he said with real interest in his beautiful blue eyes.

Beautiful?

No, I would not think that way. He's not beautiful he's an arse.

"Yes, he was. He was also a psychopath. He hid it well until he knew he had me right where he wanted me. He is the worst kind of person," I stated.

I was surprised by my easy confession. I wasn't expecting to feel trust in someone I'd just met. Id have to be careful.

"Did you meet in America?" Sherlock asked, trying to figure me out.

 _He really was a detective_ , I thought with a grin.

"No, I met him in college and fell in love with him almost instantly. It was very foolish of me, but I was young and naive," I said picking lint off my tights.

Looking up I met Sherlock's eyes, he was listening intently. "Then he told me he had to move to America. He begged me to come, so I transferred colleges and went with him. Everything seemed perfect until he showed his true colors. I wanted to join a friend for a drink and he went crazy, accusing me of being unfaithful. He is a powerful and scary man Mr. Holmes," I finished, I felt I needed to explain why I stayed.

It wasn't because I was weak, it was because if I hadn't he would have killed me and everyone I knew. Before Sherlock could comment the door downstairs opened and rough footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs.

"John," I said with a smile, meeting Sherlock's gaze.


	3. Chapter Three

The door to the flat opened and none other than John Watson entered. I stayed quite wondering when he'd notice me. John hadn't changed much, he was still a handsome man with kind eyes. His hair was starting to grey but I knew he'd never dye it. At the moment he looked flustered and angry.

"You took your time," Sherlock said.

"Yeah I didn't get the shopping," John muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice.

I played with my fingers while Sherlock looked at John indignantly. "What? Why not?" I glanced between John and Sherlock, still playing with my fingers.

John was pacing around the living room, hands in his pockets.

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with the chip and pin machine," he all but shouted.

Sherlock lowered the book he had been reading.

"You…you had a row, with a machine?" Sherlock stuttered, trying to hide his amusement.

"It isn't the first time and it won't be the last Sherlock," I smiled, finally making my presence known.

The shock on John's face made my smile grow. "Lizzie?" John gasped.

I stood rushing over, engulfing him in a giant hug.

"What…when…how?" was all John could muster.

I smiled at him like the damn Cheshire cat. I'd forgotten how much I missed him.

"I've only just arrived, I've been keeping Sherlock entertained," I said glancing at Sherlock.

"The entertainment part is questionable," he said never once looking up from his book.

"I've moved here, I just needed a change," I avoided his gaze.

I could tell he wanted to question me further but decided against it. "Where are you staying?" John said glancing down at my luggage.

I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks.

"Actually that's why I'm here. I'm currently in the market for an affordable flat. So I could use a place to stay."

John's eyes widened as he met Sherlock's gaze who of course only shrugged leaving the decision up to John.

"I'm sure we can make room, you can take my bed. I'll take the couch."

I gasped in mock horror. "John Hamish Watson, I would never take your bed the couch is fine by me," I swatted him playfully.

He tried to object but I grabbed my bags and made my way to the couch, tossing myself down "Aww it's the epitome of comfort," I playfully sighed.

John scoffed at me resigned to the fact that my mind was made up.

"I shouldn't have to stay long, I already have an interview tomorrow at Bart's Hospital," I placed my feet on the table in front of me.

"You already have an interview? Where did you find the time?" John said in amusement.

Again I avoided his eyes. "I've been planning this move for months."

John made a move to question me when Sherlock spoke up.

"What do you do for a living Elisabeth?"

I gave him a grateful nod. " I'm a specialist registrar. My interview tomorrow is with a Miss Molly Hooper."

John gave me a bright smile. "She's a friend, im sure you'll love her."

Sherlock gave him an exasperated look.

"Molly is not my friend, she's an acquaintance. Now back to what's important. Your row with a machine," Sherlock looked at John expectantly.

"It sat there while I shouted abuse. You have any cash?" John said ignoring the smirk Sherlock and I shared.

I ignored the butterflies gazing into his eyes had given me. Instead, pushing the feeling deep down. I wasn't going to allow myself to become attracted to him.

Sherlock tried to hide the amusement in his voice. "Take my card," he nodded towards the kitchen.

I noticed the table was covered in what appeared to be a small laboratory. I sighed, this place needs a thorough cleaning. _Maybe I could get John to take Sherlock with him so I could get started?_ I sat back on the couch. Even the thought is exhausting, a plan for another time?

John stopped his advance into the kitchen. Looking back at Sherlock. "You could always go yourself, you've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left," John stared at him indignantly.

"Now that's just not true John, he played his violin," I jokingly said.

"Don't defend him, Liz, you've no idea what he's like," John snapped.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Not another word I'm a mute," I said repeating the last two words silently.

John gave me an exaggerated eye roll and continued his quest into the kitchen. John grabbed Sherlock's wallet and found the card he was looking for.

"What happened to the case you were offered, the Jaria diamond?" John questioned.

At the mention of a diamond, my attention was back on the conversation in front of me. What girl doesn't like diamonds?

"Not interested," Sherlock said, placing a bookmark in his book closing it with a snap. "I sent them a message," he firmly said.

In the kitchen, John was leaning over the table running his fingers across what appeared to be a large gouge.

"Ugh, Holmes," he whispered in exasperation. Sherlock innocently shook his head as John made is way too the front door.

"Would you like to join me, Liz?" John said before noticing my heavy eyelids.

"I would Watson but jet lag is really hitting me hard," I lowered myself onto the couch kicking off my heels as I went.

John sent me a nod before he was out the door. I could hear his heavy footsteps head down the stairs. I looked over at Sherlock who was leaning down, he grabbed a sword that had been hidden under his chair. With a smirk, he placed it in the umbrella holder by the door. I mentally shrugged and closed my eyes for a well-deserved nap.

 ** _Third person p.o.v_**

The room was quiet again as Sherlock walked over to the amber hard women fast asleep on the couch. He'd been instantly taken by her, not in a romantic way but in the same way he becomes taken with a new case. He'd never met anyone like Elisabeth Riley, she was strong yet vulnerable. He stood before her listening to her steady breathing. He knew she had several secrets, and he was determined to discover every single one. He grabbed the quilt hanging on the side of the couch, placing it over her, his last thought before returning to his chair was; _I've always liked the name, Elisabeth._


	4. Chapter Four

**_Hello, lovelies. Thank you for the follows and favorites, please review whenever able. Id like to know what you think of Liz. Tata for now!_**

I awoke to the slamming of the front door. The quilt that was draped over me fell to the floor. Huh, I don't remember covering up before I fell asleep. The door opened to reveal a struggling John Watson.

"Don't worry about me, I can manage." He huffed dramatically.

I pushed myself off the couch running over to help John to the kitchen.

" You know, you could help us, Holmes," I said with disdain.

I looked over to see Sherlock sitting at the table in the living room. His hands folded in front of his mouth. He was transfixed by the screen of his laptop. He didn't look up at my sharp reprimand. I carried my share of the groceries to the kitchen placing them on the counter. I realized I didn't know where anything went. So I stepped back and let John take over. Watching everything he did in preparation for next time.

"Is that my computer?" said John obviously annoyed.

"Of course," Sherlock said typing. I could tell this was going to be an interesting experience.

"Mine was in the bedroom." Sherlock's tone was a matter of fact.

It was apparent that he saw no issue with borrowing John's things. It was like I'd taken a time machine back to my kindergarten days.

"What you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John stared down at the curly haired detective with his hand on his hip.

I chuckled turning it into a cough when they both shot me a death glare.

"It's password protected!" Sherlock ignored John's outburst and continued typing away.

"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." he glanced up at John "Not exactly Fort Knox."

I walked over to both boys "Let me guess, it was his birthdate." I giggled. Sherlock smiled at me nodding his head.

"Right, thank you," John said as he reached over and snapped the lid closed, narrowly missing Sherlock's fingers.

Grabbing the laptop he walked over to his chair and placed it on the floor next to him as he sat down. Seemingly oblivious to John's newly irritated mood Sherlock placed his hands in the prayer position. Propping his elbows on the table in deep thought. I walked over to John standing behind his chair I placed my hands on his shoulders giving them a slight rub. I could tell something was on his mind something that was really worrying him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sherlock watching us. An unreadable expression on his face.

John placed his hand on one of mine and gave it a grateful squeeze. I returned the gesture and walked to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I could feel Sherlock's eyes on me the entire time. What was with him?

As I was filing the tea kettle I noticed John going through a small stack of papers, a worried expression on his face.

"Need to get a job" he frowned.

The letters must be bills. I felt guilty knowing I was only adding to his stress. The tea was forgotten, I was about to say something when Sherlock interrupted.

"Oh, dull." He said still lost in thought.

John placed the bills back on the table beside his chair. I noticed he took another worried look at them and then back at Sherlock, who was as usual oblivious.

"John, im sure I can find another place to stay. I feel like I'm taking advantage of you." I started walking over to him.

He opened his mouth to speak when Sherlock interrupted yet again. Someone needs to teach him proper manners.

"You are taking advantage, he's just to nice to say anything. But staying somewhere else isn't necessary." Sherlock said staring me down.

"Wow, it amazes me that you, of all people, lectured me about being rude only a few short hours ago." My face was red with anger.

John stood between us sensing I was about to blow up. "Sherlock you should apologize, that was uncalled for." He said looking back and forth between us.

"Apologize? I do not apologize, especially when I'm right." Sherlock said standing.

His height next to John was comical. I could feel my anger subsiding as I watched Sherlock huff and puff. He was such a child in so many ways.

"John, I don't need his apology, it wouldn't be sincere anyway," I said not minding the defeat.

You can't expect people to change just because you want them to. John sat back down eyeing me. I could tell he wanted me to be more persistent and demand an apology but there really was no point.

Sherlock is…well, Sherlock, he wasn't going to change. Id only known him for a few hours and I already knew that.

John looked to Sherlock with determination "Listen um, now that that's over, I was wondering if you'd be able to lend me some..." John didn't even finish his sentence before he realized Sherlock wasn't listening.

"Sherlock?" I tried for John.

"Sherlock, are you listening?" John said.

Without looking at either of us Sherlock was up and moving towards the door.

"I need to go to the bank." He stopped long enough to take his coat from the hook, then he was gone heading down the stairs.

John and I shared a look. "Do you want to…?" John started but I was already moving to the door.

I grabbed my coat "Come on Watson, something fun is about to happen." He gave me a chuckle and followed my lead out the door throwing his coat on as we went.

"You'll fit in just fine around here." He said.


	5. Chapter Five

**_*Hey readers! I've tried to fix up my chapters a bit so they are easier to read. I hope it helped. As always please review any advice is welcomed! I hope you enjoy.*_**

Sherlock had led us to Tower 42 Old broad street. I looked up at the tall sleek building its sophistication and glamour made me want to straighten my blouse and fidget. If id known we were coming to a place like this id have dressed better.

John sent me a smile sensing my anxiety. He was always in sync with my emotions, something that I was glad had survived our time apart. It was a perk of many years of close friendship. It also probably had something to do with me being unable to hide my emotions.

We followed Sherlock through the revolving glass doors and into Shade Sanderson bank.

John met my gaze again mouthing the word "Wow". I hopped on the escalator behind John smiling to myself, Id always loved riding escalators, I jumped from one step to another.

Sherlock glanced at me shaking his head at my obvious child-like behavior. I sent him a shrug unembarrassed, I would never be ashamed of being who I was.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank..." John mumbled still looking around.

I watched Sherlock as he took in his surroundings. Eyeing everything, including the security system which requires a key card to pass through the barriers. He walked up to the receptionist's desk

"Sherlock Holmes." he simply said.

A few moments later we were taken to a fancy glass office and greeted by a man no older than Sherlock. Grinning at us he offered Sherlock his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said grasping Sherlock's hand with both of his.

"Sebastian," Sherlock said almost politely.

"Howdy buddy, whats it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian said eying John and myself.

Sherlock looked at Sebastian with only marginally hidden dislike on his face. "This is my friend John Watson and my colleague, Elisabeth Riley," Sherlock said.

I smirked at his calling me a colleague but decided to say nothing. After all, I was helping with the case. Sebastian was obviously surprised by Sherlock having a friend.

"Friend?" he balked. John looked at me uncomfortably.

"Actually, I'm a colleague as well," he said.

"Right." Sebastian nodded. "Right." He gave Sherlock an odd look scratching his neck in obvious discomfort.

His lack of belief in Sherlocks ability to make friends angered me. I could tell as soon as I met him he was a bully, I hated bullies. Truthfully I knew his lack of belief was well founded but still, he didn't know that. Like he said it had been eight years since they'd known each other.

"Well, grab a pew. Do you need anything? Coffee, Water?" he said remembering his manners.

Sherlock shook his head as we took our seats. He waved his hand dismissing his secretary and took a seat behind his desk. Sebastian finally looked directly at me and smiled like he'd only just noticed I belonged to the opposite sex. He gave me a wink and wet his lips. I shifted in my seat trying not to slap him across the face.

Sherlock cleared his throat and reluctantly Sebastian turned his gaze from me. I looked at Sherlock who was eying Sebastian with his dislike no longer hidden.

"Sorry, maybe we can talk later?" Sebastian said looking back at me.

"Not likely." I enunciated every word. sherlock and John looked at me sensing my rising anger and dislike for Sebastian Wilkes.

Sherlock cleared his throat and starting impatiently tapping his fingers against the metal of his chair.

"Yes, well let's get on with it," he said with embarrassment.

"Your doing well, you've been abroad a lot." Sherlock suddenly said, eying his watch and obvious tan lines.

I looked over the man seeing everything Sherlock was deducing. I caught Sherlock's eye and gave him a smug grin.

He could easily tell I was deducing exactly what he had.

"Well, some," Sebastian said.

"Flying all around the world twice in a month," Sherlock stated.

I could see Johns confusion and placed my hand on his knee. Poor guy, how dull it must be for him, I thought.

Sebastian started laughing loudly pointing at Sherlock."You're doing that thing." He said looking at John and me.

"We were at Uni together. This guy had a trick he used to do."

I looked at Sherlock he was beginning to look small and defeated.

"It's not a trick." we both said in unison. I put a little more venom in my words though.

I know I hadn't known Sherlock for long but no one deserved to feel like an outcast because they were different. Sherlock gave me a look of confusion.

Sebastian glanced at John and continued.

"He could look at you and know your whole life story."

John nodded his head. "Yes, I've seen him do it."

Sebastian smiled and looked at Sherlock. " Put the wind-up everybody, we all hated him."

I crossed my arms in frustration trying not to look at Sebastian.

"You'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this _freak_ would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

Sherlock quietly answered him clearly still upset. "I simply observed."

I clamped my mouth shut trying not to say anything but just couldn't sit here and let him treat Sherlock this way.

"You know _freak_ is a hurtful word. Maybe you should try being less of an ass." I said staring straight ahead.

I knew I shouldn't have said anything. We were on a case, Sherlock's case and I was jeopardizing it by being unprofessional.

All three men were staring at me in shock. If looks could kill id defiantly be dead. Sherlock's gaze was alit with anger.

Before I could even consider an apology my head snapped to John who had burst into nervous laughter.

Realizing what he was doing I joined in laughing anxiously. Sherlock was looking at us both with a look that said he'd thought we'd lost our collective minds.

"Sorry, she has an odd sense of humor," John said eying me.

I gave one last anxious laugh and brushed my hair off my shoulder smiling at Sebastian. I tried to fix my mistake by adding a little flirtation which earned me an icy glare from both John and Sherlock but one of admiration from Sebastian.

I cleared my throat "Sebastian why don't you continue." I added a hint of gentle femininity to my voice.

He gave me a wink turning again to Sherlock.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world, your quite right. How could you tell?"

Sherlock opened his mouth but was once again interrupted by a smug Sebastian.

"Your gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan."

I caught John smiling and covertly smacked him on the arm with a hateful glare. I ignored his Ow and look of surprise.

"Excuse me, Sebastian, where is the ladies room?" I interrupted.

Id officially had enough of him, his constant abuse of Sherlock was really getting to me. Being unable to reciprocate was like watching a murder in progress while being tied up.

He gave me an annoyed look "Ask my secretary."

Nodding I stood up, making my way to the door. As I closed it behind me Sherlock met my eyes I thought I saw a look of distress on his face before it once again became blank. I shook it off and made my way to the trading floor.

I headed to an office in the back looking for signs of a break-in. I'd guessed from the beginning that's why Sherlock had been called. I tried to open the door but realized It required a key card. Looking around I noticed a small woman leaving her desk and heading towards the ladies room. I smiled, bingo!

I slowly made my way to her desk finding she left her card behind. Silly little goldfish I thought, making sure I was still unnoticed I slipped the card into my pocket.

Before I used the card to enter the office I once again glanced around me. Everyone was too involved in their work to notice me. They seriously had a security problem I laughed quietly.

As I entered the room I immediately noticed the painting behind the desk. Presumably the late Shane Sanderson himself. Across his eyes someone had spray painted a horizontal line in bright yellow. The paint had begun to run before drying causing trails to appear below the line. To the left of the painting, someone had also sprayed what vaguely looked like the number eight except the top of the number had been left open.

A warning I said to myself, Hangzhou! I clapped my hands together, silently thanking my mother for her extreme interest in anything and everything Chinese.

She'd taught me all about Hangzhou, she loved writing little puzzles to solve. I remember running through the house searching through all the books until I found the right one, the decoder. I pulled out my cell phone taking pictures to use later.

As I took the last picture I heard the door beep signaling someone using the key card. I put my phone away and turned around to face the door with my hands behind my back.

Sebastian was talking to John and Sherlock as the entered. I cleared my throat and all three men stopped in their tracks.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Sebastian seethed.

I walked over to him and sneered. "Seems you have a Security issue, Mr. Wilkes."

He ground his teeth together as Sherlock walked around him to the painting. I stood beside John and shrugged as he gave me a questioning look. Sherlock stared at the graffiti eyes moving rapidly from side to side. Sebastian looked at Sherlock expectantly.

 ** _A few moments later._**

We were back in Sebastian's office watching the security footage from the previous night.

"Sixty seconds apart," Sebastian said flicking back and forth between the still photographs.

I eyed the pictures closely, the perp was in and out in a minute. "Impressive," I said quietly.

I barely heard the rest of what they were saying as I made my way back to the reception area.

I sat down at a computer and very easily hacked into the system, pulling up video of the trading floor. I wanted to know how the perp had accessed the office. Each indicated doors security status showed none had been accessed last night.

Meaning "There's a hole in their security" I finished out loud.

"Yes indeed." I heard Sebastian say beside me.

I was so focused on my work that I hadn't noticed their approach. I nervously chuckled and raised my shoulders.

"Sorry, I'm impatient. You might wanna update your security system. It was super easy to hack into" I said.

Sherlock was smirking obviously impressed, John, however, was smiling as he was used to the way I did things.

"Maybe I'll hire you for that Ms. Riley." He said ignoring my scoff.

"So, if you can find the breach we are willing to pay you five figures," Sebastian said reaching into his jacket and pulling out a check. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, and there's a bigger one on its way."

Sherlock looked at him and matched my scoff from earlier. "I don't need an incentive, Sebastian." he walked away as John turned to Sebastian.

"He's, uh, he's kidding you, obviously," he said holding out his hand. "Sh-shall I look after that for him?" Sebastian handed him the check and John offered him thanks.

"Lizzie looks at this." he pointed at the check after Sebastian left. "And this is only the advance," he said shaking his head.

I smiled at John and ushered him towards the office with the deformed painting, knowing that is where I'd find Sherlock. As Id expected, Sherlock was standing in front of the painting, taking photos with his phone just as I had.

Once he had taken several photos (more than he needed if you ask me) he turned around and looked to his right.

I looked over at the floor-to-ceiling window which held an impressive view of the Swiss Re Tower (better known as The Gherkin).

I frowned and looked at Sherlock who seemed to be as deep in thought as I was. This case was beginning to become interesting. Maybe this move to London would work out better than Id first expected.

Having a light bulb moment I walked over to the window to pull up the blinds. As I reached for the string my hand bumped into another. I looked to my left and noticed Sherlock who had obviously had the same thought I did.

"Uh...door...balcony" I managed to say slightly blushing.

What was wrong with me?

Sherlock looked at me with questioning eyes. I pulled the string lifting the blinds and opened the door to the balcony trying to forget my awkward moment with Sherlock.

He followed me out and we both looked at the spectacular view of London. I took a deep breath the cool air clearing my cluttered mind. My auburn hair brushed against my nose causing a tickle. I giggled and pulled my hair behind my ear.

I noticed Sherlock staring at me his eyes scrunched up like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem.

"Like what you see?" I winked. Sherlock was so much fun to mess with.

"You're really _not_ stupid," he said like it was an unbelievable fact.

"No I'm not, is that a problem?" I laughed.

"No its good, maybe having you around won't be such a horrible burden."

I sighed shaking my head as Sherlock began to bite his lip and look around the balcony.

My gaze was drawn to his cupid bow lips and I had to mentally slap myself.

I couldn't allow these thoughts I would end up hurt and heart broken again.

I shook my head and focused back on the case.

Sherlock had made his way inside but I stayed on the balcony looking over everything. It looked like we had ourselves an acrobat.

I headed back inside to find Sherlock dancing around the trading floor. I watched him duck behind a desk and rise slowly upright, staring in concentration at the glass doorway to the office that held the painting. I smiled to myself as I realized what he was trying to do.

"What the bloody hell is he doing?" John asked me as he approached.

"He's trying to figure out where you can see the painting clearly. That way we know who it was meant for." I said crossing my arms.

"How do you know that?" he said with exasperation. "I should have known you'd be his equal. No wonder its so easy for me to put up with him, I've dealt with you all my life" he laughed.

I shook my head and watched Sherlock scurrying sideways ducking down behind desks and popping up again. He began dancing across the floor and twirling around columns before backing towards an office at the other side of the floor.

For someone so smart he could be extremely silly. All this dancing around to come to such a simple conclusion. It's obvious the picture was meant for one person, Edward Van Coon.

I pulled up Google on my phone and searched for an address there couldn't be many Van Coons.

Sherlock was now heading towards us with a nameplate in his hands presumably Van Coons.

Sherlock headed towards the escalators motioning for John and me to follow.

"Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him." John questioned.

I met Sherlock's eyes and we both smiled. "How _did_ you know," John asked.

"Did you see his watch?" He asked us both.

I gave him an irritated glance, of course, I had. Sherlock looked at me realizing id made the connection.

I listened to Sherlock and John prattle on as we exited the building. I only tuned back in when I heard Sherlock explaining to John that the graffiti was a message.

"Obviously," I said.

"So when did you figure it out?" Sherlock asked.

I shrugged not really one to brag "Probably around the same time you did."

John smiled at my poor attempt at lying and Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Fine, I figured it out shortly after seeing the painting. Here's Van Coons address." I said pulling out my phone.

I figured I might as well tell them all my findings at once. Well besides the Hangzhou, I wanted to see how long it took Sherlock to figure it out. Id test him just like he'd test me.

"Well done Elisabeth," he said surprised.

I sighed and hailed a cab "There's a lot more to me than meets the eye, Mr. Holmes. Shall we?" I asked as the cab pulled up.

"You have no clue what she can do," John said as they both slipped in.

Sherlock dismissed what John said and gave the driver the address.

As we headed to Van Coons my text alert went off. I opened my phone and tried to hide my sudden fear. I blinked away tears as I reread the message. It simply said:

 ** _I'll find you_**.

I pushed the delete button and tried to steady my shaking hands. I reminded myself there was no possible way he could find me. Id change my number and everything would be fine. I couldn't have been more wrong.


	6. Chapter Six

**_*Sorry it's taken so long to update. I've just been very uninspired. I'm considering canceling this story. If you wish to see me continue it please let me know.*_**

After a silent ride in the taxi, we were outside a block of flats, Sherlock walked up to the door's buzzer and pressed the one that read Van Coon. After receiving no reply Sherlock pressed the button again and looked up into a camera above the buzzer.

"Doesn't look like he's gonna answer, Sherlock," I said looking up at the building.

"So, what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John questioned.

Sherlock looked at the buzzers and then the building. I watched him wondering if he was calculating the layout of the flats inside like I was. Before I could ask he walked back to the buzzers and looked at us triumphantly. I walked over to join him and glanced at the list of occupants and their buzzers. There was a handwritten label with the name Wintle.

"Just moved in!" Smiling at the men beside me, I took charge. "John step to the side and stay quite."

I fixed my hair and pulled Sherlock beside me, locking arms with him I pressed the button. A woman's voice came over the intercom.

"Hello?" she said.

I looked up at the camera, smiled and put on my I'm just a harmless human being voice.

"Hi! Um, my husband and I live in the flat below you. I don't think we've met." I said as Sherlock gave a knee-buckling smile.

"No, well uh I've just moved in." Ms. Wintel said politely.

"Actually, my darling husband here locked our keys in the flat." I chuckled and gave Sherlock an exasperated look.

Playing along easily Sherlock bit his lip plaintively acting embarrassed.

"Do you need me to buzz you in?" she asked.

"That would be lovely, and can we use your balcony?" I said dropping the act a bit.

"What?" she replied nervously.

After Ms. Wintle let us in Sherlock and I were standing on her balcony. We looked over the side, staring down at the ground several floors below us.

"Ok, we are really doing this then?" I mumbled.

He looked over at me and smiled "Scared Elisabeth?" he asked.

Putting my hands on my hips I sneered.

"You wish Holmes"

I placed my hands on the balcony and lifted myself over the side. I looked down as the wind swept through my hair. I pushed back the panic that was beginning to make my hands shake. That would be just grand my shaking hands knocking me to the ground. I met Sherlock's calculating gaze and gave him my best smirk as I let myself fall to the balcony below. I landed with a quiet thump and walked over to the door. I sighed in relief as I found it unlocked. It would have been just my luck getting stuck on a suspect's balcony. I walked inside and looked around the elegantly decorated living room. Clearly, Mr. Van Coon is well off, the white leather furniture and shiny black tables attest to that.

The apartment was clean and well maintained but there was no sign of a maid or of Van Coon himself. I sensed Sherlock behind me examining the apartment. I turned around to face him

"No one is here Sherlock. He must have made a run for it."

He walked over to a table covered in books and shook his head

"No, he's still here. Do you smell that?" he said.

He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge revealing nothing but champagne.

A buzz came from the front door along with a slightly irritated voice "Sherlock?"

Sherlock and I walked passed the door without answering, too focused on the horrible smell coming from the large room on the other side of the apartment.

"Sherlock, Liz are you okay?" John said from outside.

We ignored him again and tried the door leading to the large room. Unable to open it Sherlock stepped back a few paces and braced himself, I backed up and watched as he shoulder charged at the door bursting through it.

"I think we found the source of the smell," he said, as we walked inside.

On the bed was Van Coon in a suit with a bullet hole in his right temple.

"Looks like he was waiting for someone."

I walked over and found a pistol lying on the floor as Johns irritated voice yet again, reached us from outside.

"Yeah, anytime you feel like letting me in," he yelled.

"I'll let him in and you call the police," I told Sherlock.

I made my way to the front door as Sherlock pulled out his phone. I could hear him talking quickly to someone on the other end. He was brash and hateful. I shook my head, he called himself a sociopath for a reason. I unlocked the door and let a red-facedJohn into the apartment.

"It's about time, what the hell were you two doing?" he said with irritation.

"We found Van Coon, Sherlock is on the phone with the police now."

We went back into the bedroom to find Sherlock examining the body I followed and looked around the room taking everything in.

A while later the police had arrived and a photographer was taking pictures of the scene. I was standing to the side realizing how out-of-place I really was. John was talking to Sherlock who was eyeing a forensics officer that was dusting for fingerprints.

I'm sure he knew as well as I did, that he wouldn't find anything. Our acrobat was far too good to leave behind evidence. Boredom was beginning to set in and I'd finally had enough, I walked over to the bed and took off my coat.

I then grabbed a pair of latex gloves and noticed Sherlock do the same. John joined us by the bed but stayed back allowing us enough room to work. He was a good sidekick I thought with a smile, our own personal Robin. I suppressed a giggle and ignored Sherlock's questioning look.

"Do you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among city boys." John asked.

"We don't know that it was suicide," Sherlock answered looking at me.

"What do you think Elisabeth?"

I took a deep breath and decided to give it a go.

"Well, he's been away three days judging by the laundry."

I walked over to the man's suitcase and ran my fingers across the indention left in the clothes. He was smuggling something I thought to myself.

"Sherlock take a look at this, there was something tightly packed inside," I said motioning for him to join me.

"You wanna take a look, John." I met his gaze with an offering smile.

I knew he'd have absolutely no interest in rooting around in this mans dirty clothing. I smiled as his face screwed up in disgust, just as I predicted.

"I'll take your word for it Lizzie." he frowned.

Sherlock looked up at the sound of my faint laughter. He looked between John and myself and I noticed the scowl he wore before he returned to his normal blank stare. I found myself wondering for the hundredth time today what his issue was.

"Problem John?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around in some blokes dirty underwear."

I stood up ignoring Sherlock who followed my every move, I knew this whole case was a test. If I passed then maybe on my off time I could join him on another case. I'm sure Id need the distraction. I could only run from my past for so long. It would catch up with me the first moment I was alone with nothing to occupy my time.

"So the graffiti at the bank, why was it left there?" I asked both men. John stood beside me

"A warning, some kind of code?" he answered.

Sherlock stood up and joined us with a bored expression resting on his face

"Obviously," he said, walking over to Van Coons body.

I joined him and started to go through the pockets of Van Coons jacket.

"Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use email?" Sherlock said eying John.

I looked at John and gave him an encouraging nod.

"Well, maybe he wasn't answering." John guessed, trying to sound confident.

I could tell Sherlock made him nervous and that he wanted very much to impress him. Hell, I want to impress him. Sherlock was the kind of person you couldn't help but try and impress. He lived a life normal people could only dream of. Just being near him gave you an amazing all natural contact high. I knew I'd miss this when I got my own place and no longer had time to gallivant with them.

"Oh good. You follow." Sherlock said.

I looked at Johns confused expression and shook my head.

"No," John said.

Sherlock threw him a look before moving on to examine Van Coons hands.

"Come on John, what kind of message would you try to avoid," I said moving to stand in front of him.

"What about this morning - those letters you were looking at," Sherlock said trying to give John a hint.

I ignored the return of my guilt at the thought of taking advantage of John and crossed my arms.

"Bills," John said finally catching on.

I smiled at him. "Elisabeth" I heard Sherlock call.

I turned myself around and noticed Sherlock looking into Van Coons opened mouth. I pulled out my phone and accessed the flashlight.

"What is that?" I said as Sherlock pulled a black origami lotus flower from inside Van Coons mouth.

I ignored the hiss of air that escaped the dead man's lungs and watched Sherlock examine the flower.

"Yes, he was being threatened," Sherlock said.

From outside the room, a man's voice reached us. "Bag this up, will you..."

I looked closely at the flower as Sherlock quickly placed it in an evidence bag.

"Not by the gas board," John said and I suppressed a smile.

"No John, I don't expect that was who he was boarding himself up against," I answered.

The man's voice once again reached us

"See if you can get prints off this glass." He asked someone.

I prepared myself. I wasn't ready for the stupidity of Scotland Yard. I made my way to the side of the room again trying to become invisible. This wasn't my game, and I knew I didn't really belong here. Finally, the man entered in a whirlwind of plain clothing, giving off an air of ill-conceived importance. I was surprised by his youthful appearance and couldn't help but notice he was actually kind of cute. I ignored that thought, reminding myself that I definitely wasn't ready for that. I watched Sherlock walk over to the man and silently envied his confidence.

"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met," he said, offering him his hand.

Ignoring Sherlock's hand he placed his on his hips and scanned the room.

"Yeah, I know who you are; and Id prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence," he said scowling.

Slowly Sherlock raised the evidence bag and handed it to the man giving him his best stroppy expression.

"I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?" Sherlock asked obviously done dealing with this man.

"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant; its Detective. Detective Inspector Dimmock." the authority and dislike of Sherlock were evident in the DI's tone.

Sherlock looked at the man in shock. I could tell this man being a DI, had surprised Sherlock. I leaned against the wall, I was enjoying the show. Men beating their chest and fighting for dominance it was always entertaining. Sherlock turned and looked at John as if to say, really?

Dimmock went to walk out of the room before he noticed me casually leaning against the wall in his crime scene.

"And you are?"

I froze, I really didn't want to get involved in any of this.

"Elisabeth Riley, I'm an...acquaintance of Sherlocks." I sputtered.

I still wasn't sure what to call myself. Friend seemed too personal. He began to approach me and I closed my eyes for a second to slow my breathing. I had to remind myself that he wasn't going to hurt me. Id become so used to a volatile personality. His unfamiliarity and unexpected approach had set off my PTSD.

John must have noticed my discomfort because he joined me where I stood and I began to breath easier.

"So you work with Sherlock then?" he asked me.

"Only recently, but I do appreciate a good crime scene. Actually I'm a Specialist Registrar, hopefully, I'll be working at Bart's soon." I said regaining my composure.

He seemed surprised by my answer and chuckled.

"Well, we will be seeing a lot of each other then. We work closely with Bart's." He said smiling at me.

I couldn't believe it, he was flirting with me. I couldn't help the smile that crossed my lips as I nodded my head.

"This is a crime scene is it not?" Sherlock suddenly blurted brushing past us.

At that Dimmock followed him into the next room. I followed behind Dimmock and Sherlock who were now talking in the living room.

Sherlock was taking off his latex gloves starring a Dimmock with faint annoyance.

"You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it," he said clearly annoyed now.

Dimmock must have implied this was a suicide. I knew it would take some convincing for them to see what was right in front of their eyes. What did Sherlock expect, most people only see what they want to, what is easiest to explain?

"Like?" Dimmock asked.

This time I decided to step in "The wound was on the right side of his head."

Sherlock smiled at me as if he'd just seen the sun for the first time.

"And?" Dimmock shrugged.

Sherlock groaned

"Van Coon was left-handed." We both answered him.

I walked over to Sherlock and pulled his left hand up to his head and elaborately mimed how hard it would be for him to point a gun at his right temple using his left hand.

"Requires quite a bit of contortion," Sherlock said moving my hand from his.

I ignored the spark I had felt at his touch and moved away from him towards John. Sherlock watched me go.

"Left-handed?" Dimmock asked confused.

I placed my hand on my forehead and sighed.

"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice," Sherlock said sarcastically.

I interrupted him before he said something that got us thrown out.

"All you have to do is look around this flat."

I pointed at the coffee table beside the sofa as Sherlock walked around the flat pointing out exactly what we had noticed upon first entering.

"Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left..."

Sherlock was on a roll now that he was left to do what he pleased.

I could tell he enjoyed having the upper hand but to my surprise, he motioned for me to take over.

Another test?

"Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took messages with his left. Do you want me to go on inspector?" I asked, sensing his discomfort.

"No I think you've both covered it," John said tiredly.

"Oh, we might as well; we're almost at the bottom of the list." Sherlock quickly said.

John nodded as if he'd guessed Sherlock would want to continue. I didn't really understand Johns annoyance. Dimmock asked for this. He was being ignorant and naive.

Sherlock motioned for me to continue

"There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." I continued.

Sherlock turned to Dimmock with clear impatience on his face.

"Its highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of the head." Sherlock finished for me.

"Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. The only explanation of all the facts." I said tilting my head at the inspector, daring him to argue.

"But the gun: why..." Dimmock questioned causing me to groan in annoyance.

I only just kept myself from yanking my hair out. This mans stupidity was killing me. Suddenly the idea of a possible date with him made me physically ill.

Noticing my annoyance Sherlock once again took over

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened."

Dimmock looked at Sherlock and me.

"What?" he asked confused once again.

I was beginning to think it was a constant state of being for him.

"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning." John answered for us.

I smiled at him encouragingly. I was proud of how astute he was now. He'd grown so much, I'm guessing being a soldier had definitely helped with that.

I made my way back to the room and stood where I knew Van Coon had been standing when he fired.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in," I said.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock asked.

I made my fingers into a gun and acted out the scene as I saw it in my head.

"It went through the open window," I said showing them the window which was still standing wide open.

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?" Dimmock hollered.

I jerked at the volume of his voice and once again froze for a minute. Sherlock was the one to notice this time, but he left me to recover.

"Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it." Sherlock said as I shook it off.

Sherlock walked over to me as Dimmock began to question how the killer had made it into a locked room.

"You okay Elisabeth? You didn't tell me you had PTSD. Maybe this isn't the best place for you." he asked me.

Most would think he was being sweet but I'm not most people. I could tell he was more concerned with me ruining his case than my well being.

"Sherlock, I'm fine. I have a very mild case of PTSD and it isn't a big deal. I can handle myself and will not jeopardize your case." I told him.

He seemed satisfied and we both tuned back into what Dimmock was saying.

"But if the door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?" Dimmock questioned.

Sherlock began putting on his sleek black gloves as he condescendingly answered

"Good! You're finally asking the right questions." He turned and flounced his way out of the room.

John apologetically pointed towards where Sherlock just disappeared and started to follow. I shook my head at both boys and began to put my pink gloves back on. When I looked up Dimmock was awkwardly standing in front of me.

"So, here's my card use it. Give me a ring sometime," he said smiling at me.

I didn't want to be rude. It wasn't exactly his fault that the idea of spending any extra time with him made me queasy. He just isn't my type. Or at least his brain isn't my type. I laughed inwardly at my lame joke.

"Okay, see ya around Inspector," I said closing my hand around the card.

I rushed to meet up with the boys hoping they hadn't left me behind. I was equal parts surprised and relieved to see them waiting outside for me.

"What kept you, Liz?" John asked raising a brow.

I waved the card in the air "The Detective was just extending an invitation to me." I said shrugging.

I looked at Sherlock who was avoiding my eyes.

"Oh Lizzie isn't it a bit too soon to begin dating someone," John said placing his hands on his hips.

I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing. "Johnny, do you really think he's my type? Not to mention the fact that I just got out of a horrible relationship. Don't worry I'm not dating anyone right now." I said rubbing his arm and hoping my use of his childhood nickname would soothe his worries.

"Good, you know I worry about you Lizard," he said using my least favorite childhood nickname. Tit for tat I guess.

John walked away to get us a cab and I decided to approach Sherlock who was still avoiding me.

"Are you okay?" I asked confused by his behavior.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be. I'm just thinking about whats important. The case." he said sharply.

I was a bit taken back by his tone but decided to ignore it. I watched as John tried to hail a nearby cab. I could feel Sherlock fuming beside me but I didn't understand why.

"Are you going to go on a date with him?" Sherlock suddenly spoke beside me.

I looked into Sherlock's eyes and saw shame and confusion. I'm sure his confusion was mirrored in my eyes. I didn't know what was going on. Id never met someone so utterly confusing. In fact, I don't think I've ever even used that word so many times.

"No, like I told John I'm not ready for that yet. Even if I was, he's not really my type. I like someone who can keep up with me." I said winking at him.

Slowly a smile replaced his confused grimace.

"Come on you two. I only barely snagged this one!" John hollered at us.

I watched as Sherlock went ahead of me. I didn't know what just happened between us but the butterflies in my stomach reminded me of the danger this feeling could bring. I had to protect myself. I threw myself in the cab and made sure to stay close to John and further from Sherlock. I quietly sighed. Things were going to get interesting.


	7. Chapter Seven

**_*Thank you for the kind comments. I've been working on my star wars fic, so it been getting most of my attention. I hadn't really received a lot of love for this fic, so I'd kinda given up on it. But you're comments helped me to decide to add some new chapters. Make sure to let me know what you think. It really helps me keep updating. Also If Star Wars fics are something you're interested in, check out mine. It's called Nightmares In The Dark.*_**

The cab dropped us off in front of a restaurant full to the brim with fancy businessmen. I fixed my hair and jacket ignoring the knowing smile coming from John. These types of places always make me feel so insecure. John took my hand in a form of encouragement. I looked down at our joined hands and squeezed his before I removed mine. I headed inside in search of our missing sociopath.

I found Sherlock standing in front of a table where Sebastian and a few other businessmen sat eating lunch. I could hear Sherlock explaining the situation to Sébastien, who seemed to care very little for us interrupting his meal. I stood back as John passed me to join Sherlock. After Sherlock asked Sebastian if he wanted Scotland Yard involved he finally agreed to speak with us.

I followed them to the back of the restaurant. I was annoyed when they all entered the men's room. I stood outside by the door listening to the hushed conversation. On any other occasion, I would have joined them without embarrassment, but this wasn't my case. I started pacing in front of the door before they finally exited. Sebastian looked at me with a smile before heading back to his expensive lunch.

"So?" I asked both men.

Sherlock walked past me with a sullen look on his face.

"Someone called him and told him Van Coon committed suicide," John told me as we followed Sherlock.

I nodded in understatement as we exited the stuffy restaurant. I looked around in search of our missing detective before realizing he had left us. John let off a loud sigh before stepping forward to hail us a cab. I put my hands in my pocket shaking my head. I couldn't believe he just left us here, how rude. I swore to myself I would teach him some bloody manners.

John whistled loudly to catch a nearby cabbies attention.

"Hey, Johnny I'm gonna walk. I have some stuff to do." I told him.

His face fell obviously nervous to let me out by me, after being away for so long.

"I'll be ok John; I did grow up here." I smiled.

"Ok, but you have any trouble call me." He firmly told me.

I openly laughed at his overprotective behavior.

"Yes dad."

I watched him roll his eyes in exasperation before sliding into the cab. I waved until he was out of view, before pulling out my phone and removing the sim card.

I slowly made my way to the Verizon store that I had seen down the road. I needed to get myself a new phone. I was stupid to forget that my phone could be tracked. I just hope he hadn't done it yet. I stepped into the store and shivered at the thought of coming face to face with my nightmare. I found the nearest employee and traded in my phone for another. Once I had my number changed and contacts and pictures transferred, I left.

I sent everyone a text telling them I had a new number. I grabbed myself a paper and found a nice cafe to sit at, I looked through it searching for rental properties. I circled the ones that interested me as my phone beeped, alerting me of a new message.

I chocked back the fear of hearing from him. I had to remind myself that I had a new number. There was no way he could know it. I looked down and sighed at the distraught message.

"Liz, why did you get a new number? Something is obviously going on, and I expect some answers when I get home tonight. JW."

He would never know how grateful for him I was. If it wasn't for John's friendship, I would have no one. That's why I refused to get him involved in my problems. He would just have to understand, I'll tell him the basics but nothing more. I sent him a simple "Ok" and continued my search for an apartment. The sooner I found myself my own place the better. I knew he wouldn't know anything about John because I never told him. John had never even met him, he had been away fighting for our freedom when mine was being taken from me by a psychopath.

So John would be safe, as long as I kept myself separated from him as much as possible. So that meant a new apartment ASAP.

I frowned as the light around me began to fade. I couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. I hailed a cab and headed back to Baker Street. At least I had found a few viable options. I planned on calling them tomorrow after my interview.

The cabbie dropped me off in front of the building I was once again dreading. I stood outside looking up at the bright windows above me. I could see the shadow of someone pacing.

I felt like a teenager out past curfew.

The doorknob jiggled as someone opened it. Mrs. Hudson stepped outside with a large bag of trash in her hands.

"Let me get that," I told her.

Mrs. Hudson gave me a bright smile.

"Thank you, dearie. My hip is giving me trouble today." She told me, placing a hand on her hip.

I took the bag from her and placed it in the can outside. I ground my teeth together in frustration.

"Those boys are getting a talking to. They should be handling the heavy lifting." I said as I helped her inside.

She shooed me away with a laugh. "Oh, its no bother dear. Those boys are very busy."

I frowned at her. As she headed back to her apartment, a brilliant idea popped into my head.

"Mrs. Hudson!" I called.

Her head popped out from behind her door. I walked towards her with a nervous look on my face.

"Do you happen to have an empty flat available?" I hopefully asked.

Her face lit up with a grin. "Actually I do. 221C is available, although it's not in the best condition" She stated, grabbing a set of keys.

She led me downstairs rambling on about mold. The air did smell a bit musty, but it is a basement flat. A little cleaning and paint could fix that.

She quickly unlocked the door, and I walked past her into the dreary apartment. The walls were bare and in desperate need of some wallpaper or paint. In the living room, there was a nice fireplace and a large window. I walked around looking for any signs of mold, I didn't see any but I would still need a professional to check. I made my way into the bedroom and was surprised to find a large closet.

Next, I headed to the kitchen and found it to be exactly the same as Sherlocks. All in all, it was a nice flat. I should have just enough funds left on my credit card to buy what I need to fix this place up.

"What do you think love?" Mrs. Hudson asked as I entered the room.

"I like it, but I'd need to know rent would be lowered, due to what Ill need to do to fix the place up." I used my best grown-up voice.

I wanted her to know I would be a responsible tenant.

"With a two-year lease, I think we can figure something out." She said, sticking out her hand.

I gave her my brightest smile and shook her hand in a binding agreement.

"I'll draw up a lease tomorrow dear." She gushed.

I bounced up and down in excitement. My own place, and I wouldn't have to go very far!

"Ill have your first months rent tomorrow. I'll also be calling a few people to come and check for mold." I told her as we walked out.

I took one last look at my new place, before letting her lock up. To my surprise, once she was finished, she handed me the keys.

"You'll be needing these to start renovations." She smiled.

I gave her a hug as I took the keys.

"You know, my husband was abusive. I understand how hard it can be to move on." She whispered to me.

I frowned at her, unsure how she had figured it out. As if she had read my mind, she moved my shirt away from my shoulder, revealing a slowly fading bruise.

I looked into her teary eyes and began to let tears fall from my own.

"I saw this when you first arrived. Your shirt had moved a bit when you drug in your bags." She explained.

I wiped tears from my face. I hated crying it was a weakness.

"You will be ok. Your strong and can get through this. I will help any way I can. We woman need to stick together." She grabbed my hands in hers.

I chuckled a bit, unsure what to say. "Like Glue." I lamely answered.

She let my hands go and patted my face. I followed behind her as we headed upstairs. I kept heading up as she went into her apartment. I waved half heartily at her retreating figure. This had been a crazy day and I was still feeling jet lagged.

I stood outside of Sherlock's door. I took a deep breath, silently hoping John was still out. I wasn't ready for his interrogation. I slowly opened the door and stepped inside. I let out a deep breath as I found the room empty, apart from the crazed detective taping pictures to the mirror above the fireplace.

I quietly made my way to the couch. I could sense he was deep in thought. After taping up a few more pictures, he moved to the dining room and seated himself facing the images, his hands steepled under his chin.

I almost laughed at the deep concentration plastered on his face. All over a symbol I already knew. I had to admit, I was feeling pretty superior, I had one-upped Sherlock Holmes.

"I said, could you pass me a pen," Sherlock called out, without looking away from the pictures.

His sudden ability to speak, had once again, made me jump out of my skin. I hated how jumpy I had become over the years. I stood up, looking around for a moment. I was sure he hadn't even realized I was here.

"What? When?" I stuttered.

"About an hour ago." He simply stated.

I picked up a pen from the table beside Johns chair and, without even looking at him, tossed it in his direction. To my amazement, he caught it in mid-air, without even turning his head.

I clapped showing him my approval. He smiled at me, finally looking in my direction. I laughed as he bowed, lifting his arms out beside him. I curtsied before moving towards the mirror, avoiding his amused gaze.

I was still shocked that he hadn't noticed he had been alone all this time. I looked at the pictures as John came through the door. He tossed his coat onto his chair, heading towards me. I was saved from his questions by an annoyed Sherlock.

"Where have you been?" He asked him.

I stepped away trying to become invisible. I had seen that look on his face before. I was in big trouble.

"I went to see about a job at the surgery," John answered him, looking into my eyes.

"How was it?" Sherlock asked, once again saving me from Johns questions.

I looked over to Sherlock who had only just noticed the tension between John and I. He raised an eyebrow at me, which I ignored. I watched Johns face flicker to one I hadn't seen in ages. Admiration.

"It's great. She's great." He answered, his eyes glazed over, clearly remembering someone.

I took a sit on the arm of Sherlock's chair, which he had just sat down in. I knew I would be free of any questioning for a bit.

"Who?" Sherlock questioned with a grin.

John looked around in confusion. He had no clue what he had let slip.

"The job," John answered, still confused.

I hid the grin on my face behind my hand.

"She?" I asked him.

Slowly catching on, John's face began to favor a tomato.

"...It" He stuttered.

Sherlock and I eyed him suspiciously. I looked down at Sherlock who had already been staring at me. He looked down at the arm of his chair as if he only just noticed I was sitting there. Before I had the chance to mock his surprised face he quickly looked to the right.

"Here, have a look." He said, out of the blue.

I looked up at John in confusion. "Hmm?" John hummed.

Sherlock stood knocking me into his now empty chair.

"Oy" I huffed in annoyance.

Sherlock ignored me as he headed to his laptop. John helped me to my feet and lead me over to the table. I tried to take my hand from his, but he refused to let me go. He leaned into my ear.

"I'm not letting you out of my site until I get an explanation." He whispered to me.

I gave him my best childish smirk before looking at the computer screen. Sherlock was so enamored by the article displayed on the screen in front of him, he had missed the little moment between John and myself. The article was about a Ghost Killer, someone who could walk through walls. I scoffed at the stupidity, some people have too much imagination.

"The intruder who can walk through walls," John said.

Sherlock nodded "Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; door's locked, windows bolted from the inside - exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock told us.

I put the hand not attached to John's on my neck. This case was killing me, I felt completely exhausted. Sherlock glared at our joined hands before looking at me. I shrugged nonchalantly.

John pulled his hand from mine, before running it across his face. "God you think..." John asked, straightening up and looking at Sherlock.

"He's killed another one," Sherlock answered.


	8. Chapter Eight

**_*Please let me know what you think. Reviews keep me updating.*_**

The next day I was woken with a start. I looked above me to find the face of Sherlock Holmes. I lifted my arm, covering my eyes.

"What do you want Holmes!" I hollered.

I'm definitely not a morning person, not to mention being met with his deep blue eyes this early in the morning sent butterflies skittering around in my stomach.

"We have someplace to be." He said, pulling the cover from me. "Get up." He finished.

I groaned sitting up, running my fingers through my hair. I knew I must look like a mess, I always look like I've just lived through a tornado in the mornings.

"I have nothing to do until one Sherlock," I told him in exasperation.

"I have my interview and then I have to call someone to handle the mold downstairs. Not to mention all the shopping for new furniture." I told him, already exhausted.

I had told them about moving downstairs last night. They both seemed to think it was a good idea. Which made me feel better about the whole situation. They even agreed to help clean and paint. Even Sherlock, well after John basically forced him.

"No, we have to go see your friend DI Dimmock." He mocked.

I picked up my pillow and threw it at his head, he quickly dodged it.

"John said you weren't a morning person." He joked.

I grumbled at him but brightened up instantly when John entered the room with two large cups of coffee.

"Hey Lizard, I got you a caramel frappe," John said, handing me the cup.

I smiled up at him amazed he had remembered my favorite coffee.

"It's even iced, Johnny! I can't believe you remembered." I exclaimed.

John blushed at my gushing. "Of course I did; its still not real coffee by the way. Iced coffee, yuck." He disgustedly said.

I ignored his comment as I chugged my delicious coffee. I stood, basically skipping to the bathroom.

"Caffeine is life!" I sang.

I heard John laugh at me from the living room. I quickly jumped into the shower, I knew Sherlock was impatiently waiting for me to get ready.

Once I finished I left the bathroom in a towel, realizing I had forgotten to grab clothes. I walked past Sherlock and John's chairs. Sherlock's face was priceless. His jaw was basically planted on the floor.

I grabbed my bag and found something suitable to wear. I walked back towards John and Sherlock. John just lifted his eyes to mine and laughed. After all, nothing I own would be a surprise to him.

His thoughts on the matter are probably, been there done that. I mentally laughed at my own lame joke.

"See something you like John?" I joked in a sexy voice.

Sherlock's face fell in anger. Was I making him uncomfortable?

"Well my lady if I'm being honest, not really. Been there." He joked back in a sing-song voice.

He swatted my butt with his paper as I walked past.

"I'm heartbroken Mr. Watson. I wanted to land myself a Doctor." I gasped in fake hurt.

Sherlock quickly stood and rushed into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, wondering why he couldn't take two friends joking with one another.

"I think we've embarrassed him, Liz." John laughed.

I patted his shoulder and walked into the bathroom to get dressed. I threw on my clothes and blew my hair dry. I wasn't going to question which man owned the sleek black blow dryer I found in the bathroom. I put on minimal makeup and bright red lipstick to match my black ruffled shirt and jeans.

I then put my hair in a messy bun. Once I decided my appearance was acceptable, I walked back out to the living to put on my heeled boots.

"Ok guys, I'm ready. We going?" I asked both men.

Sherlock walked past me without answering. He threw on his coat and walked outside.

"I guess so." John shrugged.

I grabbed my coat from John's outstretched hand and headed out the door ahead of him. I wanted to catch up with Sherlock.

I found him outside beside a cab.

"Hey, Holmes. Whats the matter with you?" I questioned him.

He ignored me again, as he slid into the cab. I got in and sat down beside him.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. John and I were only joking with one another." I told him.

I didn't know what exactly was bothering him, but we had to live with one another for now. I didn't want him angry with me.

"I'm fine. Why would anything you do bother me? I'd just like to focus on the case." He spat, as John got in next to us.

I scooted closer to John, shocked by his hateful outburst. I wasn't scared of him, it was just a natural reaction for me to recoil when someone shows anger towards me. I hated that about myself, but I can't help it. My PTSD kicks in and I can keep myself from showing fear.

His gaze softened when he noticed. I turned away from him, keeping close to John. He was like an anchor to me. I've known him for so long that he would always be my safe haven.

John looked between us both before putting his arm around me. He could sense my unease. It practically radiated from me. I felt my shoulders loosen as I calmed down. John knew everything now, even that I suffered from PTSD. I had explained everything before we went to bed the night before. He was extremely angry and demanded I let him examine me. After I showed him and Sherlock the bruises on my ribs, arms, and shoulders they both went on and on about how I should have called the police.

Neither of them understood why I couldn't, that this wasn't a normal situation. That he wasn't normal.

That was probably my fault though. I had kept the promise I had made to myself, I only told them the basics.

The journey was silent as I avoided Sherlock. I knew he hadn't meant to be so brash, but it was awkward now, and I didn't know what to say to him.

John was sitting beside me grinding his teeth together. He didn't know what happened, but his overprotectiveness was kicking in.

The cab stopped and John pulled out his wallet to pay, knowing Sherlock wouldn't. As we had both expected Sherlock was out of the cab as soon as it stopped. I smiled at the cabbie in thanks and followed Sherlock.

He was heading inside so I ran to catch up to him.

"Sher!" I shouted.

Sherlock stopped just inside and gave me a confused expression.

"What did you call me?" He asked.

I laughed at the quizzical look on his face.

"Its a nickname. Look, I'm sorry for the way I reacted back there. It really wasn't you. I forgot my meds this morning so I'm gonna be a bit jumpy today." I explained to him.

I'd only just remembered on the way here that I'd forgotten my meds. That's probably why I'd reacted so strongly to his outburst.

I looked around us to make sure no one was nearby. I wanted to make sure he knew there were no hard feelings, but I also didn't want to embarrass him. John was still outside, slowly walking towards us. I think he knew I wanted to speak to Sherlock alone. He was still far enough away that he wouldn't be able to see us.

Gathering my nerve, I leaned forward and planted a kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

"I promise everything is ok. You and I are ok." I whispered.

His eyes were glued to mine. Several emotions fought for dominance on his face. I stepped back in hidden shock. I wasn't for sure, but something told me Sherlock was a very inexperienced man. The thought saddened me and made me feel bad for my previous actions. It also made me regret kissing him on the cheek. I only hoped he wouldn't read too much into it. I didn't want him to avoid me because he believed I felt sentiment towards him.

"I'll try to be less embarrassing." I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

John entered the room and stood beside me. Sherlock's eyes were still on mine, he slowly nodded. Without speaking he turned around and headed further inside.

"You ok Liz?" John questioned.

I pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks for always being there, and yes everything is perfect," I told him.

We headed further inside to find Sherlock. I let John lead the way, I knew he had been here a few times. He led us into DI Dimmock's office where Sherlock stood, showing him something on a laptop. I'm assuming the article we had found yesterday.

"Door's locked from the inside." I heard Sherlock tell him.

I stepped beside him and looked at the young DI. "You gotta admit its similar," I said.

Dimmock turned to me and smiled. "Well hello, Ms. Riley. Still hanging with this lot?" He joked.

I gave him a half smile before John stepped forward.

"Both men killed by someone who can..." John started. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Walk through walls." He finished with a sigh as if he couldn't believe what he just said.

Sherlock leaned forward. "Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another city suicide?" He asked, exasperated.

Dimmock began to squirm not wanting to meet Sherlock's piercing blue eyes. I sighed pointedly, I couldn't believe he was still being so stupid.

"You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?" I questioned, stealing Sherlocks next point.

Dimmock nodded "Mmm" He hummed.

"And the shot that killed him: was it fired from his own gun?" Sherlock asked, obviously ready to pull his hair out.

"No." Dimmock reluctantly said.

I leaned closer to him, his eyes meeting mine. "No. This investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take our word as gospel." I told him.

I was starting to lose all patience. Dimmock kept my gaze in silence. I pulled away from him, crossing my arms. Sherlock was the next to lean in closer to him. His face was stern and intense.

"I've just handed you a murder inquiry." He whispered. "Five minutes his flat." He said, this time almost shouting.

He motioned towards the picture on the screen, silently showing him where to go. We all left to head towards our newest victims flat.


	9. Chapter Nine

We arrived outside of the victims flat after a long cab ride. Sherlock practically jumped out before the cabbie had even fully stopped. I could tell he was beginning to become irritated by this case. I followed him inside and under the police tape in front of the stairs. I took the steps two at a time trying to keep up with his long strides.

"Sher, I'm short could you please slow down a bit."I hollered.

Just as I had expected, I received no answer. Dimmock and John joined us in the living room where Sherlock was looking at an empty suitcase on the floor. I stepped beside Sherlock and took a look around, on the floor beside the suitcase was a black origami lotus flower.

"Look, Sherlock, it's just like the one you found in Van Coon's mouth," I told him.

I stood up and motioned for Dimmock to retrieve the flower for evidence. I walked around the cluttered living room, searching for anything else we might have missed. Several books were scattered around, the tables were completely covered. One of these was obviously our decoder. While I was examining the books Sherlock made his way into the kitchen. I saw him look out the window, he caught my eye and we both smirked. This was definitely done by our acrobat.

"Four floors up. That's why they think they're safe. Put a chain on the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable." He said.

He joined me in the middle of the room before he spoke again.

"They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." I turn towards the stairs and notice the skylight above the landing.

I nudged Sherlock and pointed in the skylights direction.

"I don't understand," Dimmock said, clueless.

Sherlock pulled me to the landing. "You're dealing with a killer who can climb." He told him.

I lifted myself up on a step stool so I could get closer to the skylight.

"What are you doing?" Dimmock asked, shocked.

I felt Sherlock's hands on my waist, keeping me steady. I ignored the blush creeping across my cheeks and focused on what I was doing.

"Liz please be careful!" John exclaimed.

I turn my face to look at him and sent him a wink before I turned back to what I was doing.

"He clings to the walls like an insect," I explained to them.

I unhooked the latch and lifted the window upwards.

"That's how he got in." I heard Sherlock tell them.

I wiggled out of Sherlock's grasp and lifted myself up and through the skylight.

"Elisabeth! What are you doing?" Sherlock hollered.

I ignored him and looked at the roof. I walked across the roof imaging how he had climbed the side of the walls to access the skylight. I was actually quite impressed with his work. I heard the others still frantically hollering my name. I swear they think I'm made of glass. I walked back over to the skylight and sat down on the edge before lowering myself back down. Three anxious faces greeted me.

"What? I wanted to take a look." I shrugged. "He climbed up the side of the walls, ran across the roof, dropped in through this skylight," I told them, trying to bring them back to what's important.

"You're not serious! Like Spiderman?" Dimmock scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and focused on Sherlock. "He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon." He explained.

I brushed the dirt from my grey coat while Dimmock tried to comprehend what we were trying to tell him. I looked up at the sound of Dimmock's shocked laughter.

"Oh, Ho-Hold on!" He sputtered.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." I said in annoyance.

Why was this so hard for him to believe? Sherlock nodded agreeing with me. He stepped onto the landing taking one last look around the room. His eyes landed on a stack of books scattered on the side of the staircase. I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I could all but see the gears turning in his head. He jumped down a few steps before picking up one of the books that had fallen open. I joined him on the stairs and leaned over to look at the Kensington Library stamp displayed on the first page. Slamming the book shut, he slipped it into his pocket before heading down the stairs. I looked behind me to make sure John was following.

After a cab ride, we were all once again taking a ride up an escalator, this time inside West Kensington Library. Sherlock led us to an aisle where our victim had gotten the book Sherlock had sneakily stolen from the crime scene.

"Date stamped on the book is the same day he died,"Sherlock told us.

I leaned forward to check the reference number on the spine of the book. I found the correct place along the shelves. Sherlock joined me, and we began to remove the books and examining them. I knew exactly what we were looking for, John, however, was standing to the side in confusion. I smiled at him before he decided to join us. I knew it was just to have something to do, but to my surprise he instantly got lucky.

"Guys." He whispered.

We both turned to look at him, he was staring intently at the gap left by the books he had only just

removed. Stepping over to him we both saw what he had been looking at. Sherlock removed a few more books as I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the same symbol that had been left on the painting in William Shades office.

Back at 221B Sherlock had added a few new pictures to his mirror collage. I stood in the kitchen

making everyone a cup of tea. I was preparing to head to my interview. I had to admit I was kinda nervous. "Hey Liz, you ok?" I heard John ask. I turned my head towards his.

"Yeah, a bit nervous," I said, looking at my watch.

I jumped when I realized how late it was getting.

"Johnny, can you let the mold inspector into my apartment. I need to be heading out." I asked him, handing over my keys.

He nodded helping me carry the tea tray to the living room.I sat it down on the table and went to grab my coat. Sherlock was standing in front of the fireplace, staring at the symbols. I shook my head in exasperation. I made a silent promise to tell him what they were if he hadn't figured it out by the time I returned.

"Ok guys, I left tea but please make sure you eat something too. There are biscuits in the cabinet." I sternly told them.

I hated playing mother but they tended to forget to eat or breath during a case. Mrs. Hudson had explained how obsessed they could become.

"Yes, mother dear." John joked.

I sent him a smirk. before wrapping my scarf around my neck.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, only just noticing my imminent departure.

I let out a loud sigh. "Sher, I have an interview remember. I'm not actually a consulting detective." I laughed.

I opened the door to leave. "I need you here Elisabeth. You're helpful." He shyly told me.

I grinned at his sad face. "I have to find work. Like I said, this isn't my job, it's yours." I told him, eyeing John.

I tilted my head, trying to get John to intercede.

"Let me help mate. That's why I'm here, isn't it?" He asked, finally understanding.

Sherlock huffed before turning back to me. "How long will you be?" He monotonously asked.

"I'll be as quick as humanly possible Sherlock. You know you're my whole world!" I mocked.

He rolled his eyes as I waved goodbye. I hopped down the stairs rushing to the door.

"In a hurry dear?" Mrs. Hudson called.

I stopped in my tracks and looked at her. "Actually yes. Job interview, could you make sure the boys eat." I quickly asked her.

She gave me an odd smile before heading upstairs. I felt better knowing I was leaving them with a sitter. I laughed at myself as I hailed a cab. I sent the cabbie to Bart's hoping to get there in time. As soon as the cab stopped I gave him his fare and jumped out. I headed inside the hospital, taking the lift down to the morgue. The familiar smell of death greeted me as the lift doors opened. It was the one thing about this job Id never miss. I pushed the doors to the morgue open, finding a pretty redhead elbows deep in a cadaver.

"Molly Hooper?" I asked.

The redhead lifted her eyes to mine. "Yes. You must me Elisabeth Riley." She smiled.

I nodded, joining her at the table. She pulled her hands from the body and slid off her gloves. I shook her hand with only a slight grimace. No matter how many times Id done exactly what she had, it still turned my stomach a bit.

"So, follow me and we will look over your paperwork. Then I have a small test for you." She explained with a grin.

I could tell Molly and I would get along just fine. She took me into her office where we sat down to review my application.

"Ok, everything looks good. Except, I need your address." She told me.

I took her pen and wrote down my new address. I would be moved in soon anyway. Molly looked down at my address with a surprised expression.

"You live in Sherlock Holmes building." She stated.

I could sense a bit of unease.

"Yeah, his roommate John Watson is my best friend," I explained.

I got the feeling she had a thing for Sherlock, and I didn't want that to interfere with me getting the job.

"Really, well that's nice." she quipped.

I gave her an uneasy smile and watched her jot something down furiously. I placed my hand on hers and gave it a light squeeze.

"So you know Sherlock, I assume?" I asked nonchalantly.

She rose her head to meet my eyes, hers filled with apprehension. She nodded and I sat back giving her a small grimace.

"He can be quite the ass." I laughed.

The tension left her face being replaced with a bright smile.

"That he can," she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

We finished my paperwork and I quickly passed her little test, which consisted of me helping her remove some poor souls organs and find the cause of death. All in all, it was a productive day. I thought back to her telling me I got the job as I walked out of the hospital to try and hail a cab. I'm actually excited for Monday. I mean I can't help but be excited, it finally feels like things are coming together for me and after all the pain and uncertainty I've had these past few years, it's a very welcome feeling. I finally caught a cab and slid my way inside. I can only hope Sherlock and John had as much luck as I did. As the cab arrived at 221B I saw John furiously approaching the apartment, looking every bit the soldier he was. I tossed the cabbie his money and refused the change as I quickly hopped out.

"Johnny, what's the matter?" I apprehensively asked him.

I approached him as I would a wounded animal. I haven't been around enough since he's been home to know how he handles his anger. I wasn't sure if he suffered from PTSD as I do. His eyes softened at my fearful manner.

"I'm fine, just angry. I'll explain upstairs." he huffed.

I nodded, still unsure of what's to come. I felt my own nerves flitter to the surface. I followed him through the door and up the stairs knowing Sherlock must have something to do with his poor mood. As we came through the door John slammed it behind him causing me to swiftly jump. I slowed my breathing and tried to remind myself how silly and irrational my fear was. This was John, I knew deep down I was perfectly safe. We found Sherlock standing in front of the now covered mirror, looking at the pictures of various ciphers. I placed my hand on my hip in annoyance. He still hasn't figured it out yet, seriously?

"You've been a while." Sherlock simply stated, without turning away from his work.

I made my way to the sofa, clearly in store for a great showdown. I tossed my purse beside me and leaned back with my arms crossed, ready for whatever. John walked further into the room shoulders rigid and fists clenched. He was positively fuming. I hadn't seen him this angry since I revealed what he had done to me. I watched John's face, his non-blinking eyes focused on Sherlock. He was trying hard to control his anger.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is Custody Sergeants don't really like to be hurried, do they?" He asked, pacing, an angry grimace on his face.

I quickly sat forward appalled. "John Hamish Watson! May I asked why you were being detained?!" I half shouted. What did you do!?" I finished, directing the question at Sherlock.

I knew whatever had happened wasn't John's fault.

"Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheets; and I've gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday." John hollered exasperated.

I tapped my foot eagerly awaiting an explanation.

"What?" Sherlock asked, clearly having not heard a single thing we had said.

"John, Sherlock, in Court on Tuesday," I told him, waving my hand around, trying to gain his attention.

"They're giving me an ASBO!" John once again shouted.

Sherlock remained facing the opposite direction clearly still too wrapped up in his own mind to even acknowledge us. I stood up, finally having enough of his disrespectful attitude. Yes, he's brilliant, but that is no excuse to treat your friends so poorly. I stepped behind him and waited for my opportunity.

"Good fine," he said, monotonously.

I smiled, the perfect opportunity presenting itself as quickly as I had expected. I lifted my hand and swiftly slapped him in the back of the head before stepping back quickly.

"Oi!" He hollered, swinging himself around to meet my amused gaze.

"That's for ignoring John! Now turn around and pay attention to your friend." I bluntly said.

John stepped forward with his arms crossed over his chest, an angry expression still plastered on his face.

"You wanna tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up anytime." John uttered.

I stood by his side and placed a hand on his tense shoulder. His shoulder instantly loosened at my touch. He gave me a grateful nod, as Sherlock slammed a book closed. I jumped slightly at the unexpected noise, which brought John's tension back in full force.

"This symbol: I still can't place it." Sherlock exasperatedly said.

He turned around and placed the book on the table behind him. He joined John and myself running his hand through his hair. Ignoring Sherlock's exasperated behavior John started sliding off his jacket clearly ready for the comfort of his own home. I was about to ask what exactly had happened between the two when Sherlock, once again, pushed John to his limit. I watched in silent humor as Sherlock slid Johns jacket back onto his shoulders.

"No, I need you to go to the police station..." Sherlock told him.

He pulled John towards the door as I sat back down on the couch, clearly not needed.

"Oi, Oi, Oi!" John shouted indignantly.

I hid my laugh behind a small cough, still going unnoticed by either man. I was starting to understand how people could think they were in a secret relationship.

"...Ask about the journalist." Sherlock said, ignoring Johns protests.

"Oh, Jesus!" John said, finally giving in.

I sat back getting comfortable, I was actually excited when Sherlock placed his own coat on. I was looking forward to the quiet, empty apartment.

"His personal effects will have been impounded. Get ahold of his diary or something that will tell us his movements." Sherlock demanded.

I rose my eyebrow, waiting for a reaction from John. Normally he would never allow someone to just tell him what to do, with no thank you's or please's. Yet he said nothing, it really showed me what Sherlock was beginning to mean to him. I felt something heavy hit my head, I squealed in surprise as my own coat slid to the floor. Sherlock's amused face was the first thing I saw, once I was no longer blinded by the surprise attack.

"What the bloody hell is your problem Sher?" I asked, annoyed by the smirk still present on his face.

"Get your coat on, it's cold outside." He stated simply.

I ignored his remark and looked away, tapping my foot on the floor.

"Please." he finished, realizing I wasn't as easy to push around as errand boy John.

"Thank you. See, was that really all that hard? Maybe you should try it out with John sometime, im sure he'd enjoy it." I told him, putting on my coat.

I sped past him, a new burst of energy filling me at the idea of whatever we were about to do. We made our way down the stairs, I waved goodbye to a smiling Mrs. Hudson as we hurried by her.

"Gonna go see Van Coon's P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere they'll coincide," Sherlock told me, as we stood at the side of the walkway.

John stood beside us hailing a taxi that was luckily coming around the corner towards us. Sherlock had begun walking in the opposite direction. I noticed John staring at something across the street, where I saw a woman with dark hair taking pictures of us. My throat dried, could he have found me? John was clearly unworried, as he bent down to address the taxi driver.

"Scotland Yard." He told him.

He moved to the side to allow me to get in, as I felt a hand on my wrist. I spun around in fear before I saw it was only Sherlock.

"You're with me." he simply stated.

His face was pleading, and I couldn't help the small flutter I felt in my stomach. John rolled his eyes before hopping into the taxi.

"I don't see why you always get Lizzie. She was mine first," he grumbled.

I raised my eyebrow in question before his face became red with embarrassment.

"You know what I mean Liz," he said, as the taxi pulled away.

I waved at the retreating car and took one last look at where the woman had been. She was gone, great I'll have nightmares tonight, I thought.


	10. Chapter Ten

**_*Please let me know what you think. Thanks go out to all my readers and to everyone who reviewed the story.*_**

Sherlock stood beside the desk of Van Coon's personal assistant/lover. It hadn't been formally addressed yet, but to me, it was obvious. The woman's eyes were glued to her screen looking through Van Coons calendar.

"Flew back from Dalian Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team." Amanda told us.

"Can you print us up a copy?" Sherlock politely asked.

He was such a charmer. You'd honestly never know how big of an ass he could be until he wanted you to.

"Sure." she smiled.

I quietly scoffed, becoming annoyed by her constant batting eyelashes. Sherlock sent me a questioning look, which I ignored. I'd been on edge since seeing that mystery woman.

"What about the day he died? Can you tell us where he was?" I questioned her.

I figured I might as well try and help out.

Amanda looked at her screen before tisking. "Sorry, a bit of a gap."

Sherlock looked away frustrated.

"What about receipts? Do you happen to keep track of his? I asked her.

Sherlock's face lifted as Amanda snapped her fingers.

"Yes, I do." She said pulling out a small container of receipts.

Sherlock and I took them from her and carefully spread them out on her desk.

"What kind of boss was he Amanda? Appreciative?" Sherlock asked.

Amanda's face fell a bit as she spoke. "Um no, that's not the word Id use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag."

Sherlock kneeled down to get better access to the receipts. I took off my gloves and noticed a pump action bottle of expensive lotion. The same kind I'd seen at Van Coon's apartment. I smiled, silently enjoying being right.

"Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn't he?" I asked her, with a knowing look on my face.

She began fiddling nervously with a bright green pin in her hair. I squinted, looking closely at it. Something was off, It looked old, and I was sure it was expensive. Sherlock and I were both looking at her, awaiting a response. She nodded at us, and Sherlock went back to shuffling through the paperwork in front of him. I noticed his hair was ruffled and messy, without thinking I smoothed it down. He froze for a moment, and I removed my hand, before casually stepping away.

"Look at this one Elisabeth. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty. He told me, standing up.

I leaned over and took a look at the receipt before he handed it to Amanda.

"That would get him to the office." Amanda plainly stated.

"Not rush hour; check the times. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as..." Sherlock asked.

I finally found the info on my phone as I answered him, "The West End."

Sherlock smiled at me in appreciation, he handed Amanda another receipt, this time from the Tube.

"Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly." Sherlock told us.

"So he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?" Amanda asked.

I frowned at her inability to grasp the obvious, I turned to Sherlock who had gotten exactly why he would be taking the Tube back.

"Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn't want to lug a package up the escalator." I said, beginning to understand the full picture. Mr. Van Coon was a smuggler.

"Delivering?" Amanda asked, bringing me back to the present.

"To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it and then..." Sherlock muttered while looking through the receipts before stopping at one. "...stopped on his way. He got peckish." he finished.

 ** _Streets of London_**

After we gathered all the important information from Amanda, we found ourselves back out on the streets of London. I followed behind Sherlock, barely paying any notice to his quite muttering. I was already used to how he did things. It really must be hard sometimes, surrounded by a world of people who don't understand you. We stopped in front of an espresso bar for a split second, before we passed it.

"So you bought your lunch here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you...?" he said, spinning around as he walked.

I almost smiled at the familiar head of dirty blonde hair the passed by me. He was so focused on the journal in his hands he hadn't even noticed me. I shook my head at the similarities between him and the man he was about to collide with. I was going to say something, but it was too late. They both slammed into one another. Sherlock let out a loud grunt as they almost fell to the ground. I helped steady them both before I let out the laugh I had been holding in.

"Mr. Watson, lovely to see you again. My day was beginning to become dull without you." I smiled.

John's surprised face was priceless.

"Right," he said, in shock.

Sherlock was back in action almost as soon as it happened, not much surprised him.

"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died - whatever it was hidden inside, I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information..." Sherlock continued rambling.

He was still to stuck in his own world. I looked at the businesses around us, before my eyes connected with Johns, a sly smile appearing on both our faces. I stepped beside him, casually glancing at the journal he held, confirming my thoughts.

"Sherlock..." John said, trying to gain his attention.

Sherlock was still pacing trying to figure out something John and I already knew.

"...credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here."

"Sherlock..." John tried again.

"Somewhere on this street; somewhere near. I don't know where but..." Sherlock continued frantically.

I quickly intervened, becoming exhausted just by watching him. I placed my hands on both sides of his face, taking deliberate, deep breaths. I keep eye contact with him, and that seemed to help him focus.

"That shop over there," John said, pointing across the street.

I released Sherlock's face with a gentle smile on my own. He looked between John and the shop, frowning.

"How can you tell?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Lukis' diary. He was there too. He wrote down the address." he told him, showing the entry we both had previously seen.

I hopped off the sidewalk heading towards the aforementioned shop. Behind me, I could hear the boys begin to follow. I heard the store's entrance bell jingle softly as I entered. It would definitely be considered a tourist trap. The number of decorative cats throughout the store was staggering. I stood in front of them watching their paws wave back in forth in a greeting. I couldn't help but like them, I have a weakness for cats. I heard the door jingle as the boys entered.

"Oh no...keep Liz away from the cat statues," John mumbled to Sherlock.

I turned around and stuck my tongue out at them both. I walked further into the store listening to John politely greet the woman behind the counter. He stepped beside me, as the woman called out to him.

"You want lucky cat?" she asked him enthusiastically.

I looked up at John smiling.

"No, thanks. No" he said, trying to keep himself from laughing.

I looked across the aisle at Sherlock who, like me, was smirking at a flustered John.

"Ten pound. Ten pound!" she tried again.

John glanced at me with a look of help before answering. "No." His face was becoming more awkward by the second.

"I think your wife will like," she said, motioning to me.

My own face brightened for a second before I decided to have some fun.

"She's right darling. I do like them and you promised me a gift today." I pouted, placing my hands around his neck.

I looked into his shocked eyes and gave him a wink. Sherlock joined us in the aisle staring at us with an incredulous look on his face.

"See, wife want." the woman said.

I removed my arms from around him and instead moved to Sherlock.

"Or maybe he'll buy me one," I said, with a sexy smile.

Sherlock froze in place as he usually did when I teased him. I sighed at his deer in headlights expression before picking up the nearest cat.

"Actually, I think I'll buy myself one," I said, walking to the counter and paying the shocked woman.

John shook his head at me, used to my antics. I stood beside John as he lifted a statue inspecting the bottom. I noticed the same Chinese symbol that had been painted at both the library and bank. Finally, Sherlock would be able to figure it out on his own.

"Sherlock." John nervously said.

Sherlock pushed past me to get to John. I looked at him in confusion.

What did I do?

"The label." John showed him.

"Yes I see it," he said.

"Exactly the same as the cipher," John told us as he awkwardly put the cup back.

 ** _Outside_** ** _the shop._**

A short time later we were once again walking down the street.

"It's an ancient number system! Hangzhou." Sherlock shouted.

It was like he had just won the lottery. I smiled brightly, I thought about mentioning I had known this whole time, but then I realized how that may be perceived.

"These days only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and library." he continued.

We stopped at a greengrocer's which had some ware on display outside. The various boxes had handwritten signs on them, giving the names of the vegetables in both Chinese and English. Below was the pricing in Hangzhou. I frowned at bit remembering being in a similar store when I was little, my mom helping me translate the Hangzhou on the signs. It was little game of ours. I watched Sherlock inspect a few signs looking at the different symbols. I wanted to tell them I needed to leave, but I couldn't, I knew they needed my help. The reminder of my mom was almost too much for me, I missed her terribly.

"Numbers are written in an ancient Chinese dialect," Sherlock said in admiration.

John lifted a sign with a small gasp.

"It's a number, fifteen." I told him before he could speak.

He looked at me in confusion, Sherlock looked up as well but with mere interest.

"How do you know Liz?" John asked.

I shifted nervously, I didn't want them to be angry with me.

"Um...well...I can translate it." I hesitantly told them.

"What! Why didn't you tell us this earlier Elisabeth Marie!" John sputtered.

I took a step back at his use of my middle name. I was definitely in for it.

"Well, looking back now I realize it's silly, but I wanted to see how quickly it would take Sherlock to figure it out" I admitted.

Sherlock lifted his brow in surprise.

"Seriously Liz? You and Sherlock have more in common than I first thought." John told me.

I could see he meant it in a hurtful way. I was shocked by how angry John was with me. I looked away unable to meet his eyes. I felt him walk past me with a huff of annoyance. I looked up to see Sherlock still in front of me.

"I'm impressed, but then again it's something you already knew. It's not like you figured it out before me." he jokingly smiled.

I gave him my most brilliant grin before jumping into his arms.

"Thank you for understanding," I whispered in his ear.

He pulled away quickly, running his fingers through his hair. I caught myself imaging doing the same, I snapped myself out of those dangerous thoughts and followed after John. I hailed a taxi after realizing John must have gone back to the apartment. I found him upstairs sitting on his chair, a cup of tea in his hands.

"Johnny, im sorry. It was stupid of me." I said.

I sat on my knees in front of him trying to get him to speak to me. I felt Sherlock's gaze from the doorway where he quietly stood.

"You've changed Liz, and frankly I don't want you to. You're becoming more and more like Sherlock and I don't think I can handle two of him." he tried to joke.

I knew what he wanted to say to me was hard for him.

"John Watson, yes I've changed, but not enough to forget who my best friend is and always will be," I whispered to him.

He finally met my gaze with teary eyes.

"I only just got you back, I don't want to lose you. The fact that you played the same type of game Sherlock does reminded me that you're not the same girl I fell in love with. Your better, and I don't know if I can keep up with you." he said, an insecure smile on his face.

I leaned in and hugged him deeply.

"You will always be my first love John, but most importantly you're my best friend. I'll never leave you behind, you're stuck with me." I whispered.

I pulled away and stood up. "Now let's help our sociopath solve this annoying case," I said, letting Sherlock know the coast was clear.

"Well, I say we have an old fashion stakeout," Sherlock said, clapping his hands together.

 ** _A Short While Later_**

I took a drink of my iced tea as we awaited our food. I was starving and couldn't wait to finally eat something. I turned to look out the window checking in on the building we were currently staking out. Our old friend the lucky cat emporium.

"Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the lucky cat emporium. What did they see?" John questioned.

"It's not what they saw; its what they both brought back in their suitcases," I said, taking Sherlocks turn to speak.

I gave him a grin as John continued to contemplate what the men had brought home.

"And you don't mean duty-free." John finally asked.

My mouth started watering as the waitress brought John and myself our food. I took a chip and happily devoured it, ignoring Sherlocks ever looming gaze.

"Thank you," John told her, looking right at me as if to remind me of my manners.

I looked to my food with a shamefaced expression. John sighed and passed me the ketchup. I happily took it, nudging his leg with my foot playfully.

"Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon - about how he stayed afloat in the market." Sherlock reminded us.

"...made it back in a week." John said, in between bites.

"That's how he made such easy money," Sherlock said, looking at John.

"He was a smuggler. Called that one!" I said, taking another chip and popping in my mouth.

John clapped in fake enthusiasm. I smiled and stole a bite of his food.

"Oi keep off!" he hollered in laughter.

"A guy like him would have been perfect" Sherlock stated, once again ignoring John and my bantering. "Businessman..." Sherlock absentmindedly finished.

Only earning mumbles from John and myself.

"...making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same." Sherlock continued, looking outside.

I imagined Lukis bringing a case into the Lucky Cat before Sherlock's voice snapped me out of it.

"...a journalist writing about China," he said.

I finished up my food while the boys continued speaking to one another. I knew everything I needed to know, really it was obvious, one of the men took something and lost his life for it. I silently stood allowing them to finish their conversation. Neither noticed my exit as they had just realized what led to the death of both men. I stepped outside and took a deep breath of the crisp air. I took a quick look around. The apartment above the shop caught my eye. The curtain fluttered in the breeze. Someone had left it open. I moved my gaze to the yellow pages sitting outside. It was sealed in a clear plastic wrapper. I crossed the street and bent over to inspect the directory. The pages were damp. I grinned as I heard Sherlock heading my way.

"Its been here since Monday," I told him.

His smile was blinding as I rose. "As always you are spectacular Ms. Riley." he gushed.

I was taken back a bit by his unusual compliment but decided to accept it.

"Back at ya Holmes." I winked.

"No-one's been in that flat for at least three days," Sherlock said, looking at the window above us.

"Could have gone on Holiday," John answered.

"D'you leave your windows open when you go on Holiday," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at him.

I bumped my hip against his and whispered for him to behave.

I followed him to the rear of the building, John close behind us. Sherlock looked at the floor above, I followed his gaze to see a cantilevered metal fire escape. Taking a short run at it, he jumped up and grabbed the end, pulling it towards us. He started running up the steps towards the open window.

"You coming, Elisabeth?" He hollered, leaning over the railing.

I gave John an excited smile, as I took the stairs as quickly as possible.

"I've never committed B and E before. I have to admit, im kinda excited!" I hollered at both men.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**_*Please review! It keeps me motivated! *_**

The stairs lifted as I reached the top of the fire escape, leaving John stranded down below. He would never be tall enough to reach it. I stood beside a smiling Sherlock.

"Are you two gonna help me up?" I heard John holler.

I leaned over the railing to look at him.

"Sorry love, you'll have to meet us at the front. After all, we need a look out! It's a very important job." I joked, with a wave goodbye.

Sherlock was already headed inside, so I started to follow. He let out a small gasp, causing me to jump in fear.

"You ok Sher?" I speedily asked.

His face was inches from mine as he stuck his head outside. I took in a deep breath, his close proximity clouding my mind. His eyes wandered across my face before locking with mine.

"Yeah, just watch out for the vase," he muttered, slowly moving his head back inside.

My breath hitched for a moment before I regained control. What was this man doing to me? I climbed inside avoiding the vase. Sherlock was leaning down, with his hand on the rug.

"Someone else has been here," he whispered to me.

"Your whispering is freaking me out, Sher," I whispered back to him.

The eerie apartment putting my nerves on high alert. Straightening up, he placed his hand on my shoulder helping to calm me.

"Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just as you did," I told him, moving towards the kitchen.

It would be the quickest way to see how long the owner has been gone. Sherlock moved to the washing machine as I checked the fridge. I took out the milk and checked the date, shaking my head. I noticed Sherlock remove some clothes from the washer, he sniffed the handful of clothes grimacing. I closed the fridge and walked around the living room. The doorbell started ringing, alerting us to Johns attempt at gaining our attention.

"D'you think you could let me in this time?" John called from the front door.

I was going to allow him inside, but Sherlock stopped me.

"The washing is starting to smell," he told me.

I stepped closer to him, something felt wrong to me.

"The milks gone off too," I added.

"Were not the first." He hollered, alerting John.

I heard the letterbox opening as John's voice filled the air.

"What?" Sherlock stepped closer.

"Somebody has been here before us!" he yelled.

I took out the pocket magnifier from Sherlock's coat, invading his personal space without caring. I moved over to where a foot had rucked up the rug, leaving an impression of the intruder's shoe.

"Size eight feet," I mumbled to Sherlock, handing him his magnifier.

To my amusement, he took a quick look, before nodding his head in agreement.

"Can you not keep doing this please?!" I heard John once again yell.

My mind was too involved in our mystery intruder to be bothered with letting him inside. I pushed my way through the beaded curtain between the kitchen and living room, I bent down to examine the rug.

"Small but athletic." I heard Sherlock mumble to himself.

I stood back up, my mind going a million miles a minute. I noticed Sherlock looking at a framed photograph, I curiously joined him. It was a picture of a small girl and boy. A handprint was clearly visible over the girl. Sherlock held his magnifier over the fingerprints. I frowned at the image. Obviously, our intruder has some sort of personal relationship with the girl in the picture. I moved my gloved hand over the handprint to gauge the size.

"Small strong hands," I said.

He closed his magnifier and put the photo back in its place.

"Our acrobat," he added.

I started to frown, looking around the room. This was not going to be good. I took my jacket and bag off slowly, placing them on the chair next to me. I pulled a pair of pink brass knuckles(what I like pink) from my pocket, placing them on. I was always taught to carry something to protect myself, and after the last few years, I go nowhere without them. I chose to no longer be the victim I used to be. I had been secretly taking self-defense classes for ages now, in preparation for my escape. I placed my hair in a tight ponytail.

"But, why didn't he close the window when he left...?" Sherlock asked himself.

I rolled my eyes at him, as he looked at me in surprise. He hadn't noticed the small changes I made. His face scrunched up in annoyance at himself.

"Oh, stupid...stupid. Obvious. He's still here." He whispered.

I stood in place, preparing myself as Sherlock looked around the room. He looked at me and tilted his head towards the free-standing, folding screen, shielding the bed. I nodded telling him I was ready as he started carefully making his way towards it. He gripped the edge of the screen and quickly yanked it away. Two seemingly startled stuffed toys looked at us innocently.

Before I had the chance to laugh someone wrapped a large white scarf against Sherlock's neck. Without a second thought, I started running to help. I waited till Sherlock spun around giving me a nice view of his assailant, before I jumped onto the ottoman in front of them, using it to propel myself towards Sherlock's attacker. I slammed my fist into his head. He pulled away from Sherlock, but not enough to release him. I then lifted my knee into his stomach allowing Sherlock to breathe. I looked at a red-faced Sherlock in fear, not for myself, but for him.

The doorbell started buzzing loudly and I inwardly cursed at John. There was no way I'd let anything happen to him. The man headed towards me with his fists raised. I readied myself but had no chance to act as Sherlock grabbed him from behind. They both started stumbling around and somehow the scarf ended up around Sherlock's neck again. I tried to help, but the man slammed his elbow into my face and I fell, the world around me tilting slightly.

I looked up to see the man shove something into a nearly unconscious Sherlocks pocket, before jumping out the window. I lifted myself onto my knees and crawled over to Sherlock. Before I could even touch him he pulled himself up and quickly removed his own scarf, gasping for air. I sat back on my legs taking deep breaths. I had never been so afraid to lose someone before.

"You ok?" he croaked, pulling me towards him.

He looked me over, assessing the small cut just below my hairline.

"Yeah, you ok Sher?" I asked looking at his neck.

There would definitely be a small amount of bruising. He nodded still unable to speak very well. I grabbed the lapel of his coat and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When had he become so important to me? I leaned my nose into his neck, feeling his own in my hair. I memorized the smell of tobacco and soap. It was an oddly appealing combination. John's voice brought me back to the present and made me realize how long I had been gripping onto the man in front of me. I pulled back and stood up grabbing my coat and placing it back on. I slipped my brass knuckles back into my pocket, then helped him fix his coat. There was no way I wanted John knowing what happened to us, he would flip.

Neither of us mentioned the lingering hug, and I was grateful. I didn't even understand what I was feeling and talking about it was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Elisabeth," Sherlock mumbled.

I looked at the small origami lotus sitting in his palm. Well damn. I motioned for him to follow and headed outside. I stood close by Sherlock as he was still stumbling a bit. John stood in front of us an exasperated look on his face.

"Milks gone off." I quickly spat.

I was feeling guilty, id never been good at hiding things from him. I'm still surprised my relationship issues had been kept secret for so long.

"Washings starting to smell too. Someone left here in a hurry three days ago." Sherlock croaked, rubbing his neck.

"Somebody?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, his voice still rough.

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her." Sherlock answered him.

I felt my foot brush against something on the ground, I bent over to grab a small white envelope. As I stood, I felt myself sway. I was still a bit dizzy from that idiot slamming his elbow into my head. I covertly hid it from John, but of course, Sherlock had noticed. I avoided his gaze and handed him the envelope.

"But how exactly?" John asked.

I leaned into Sherlock to read the note. Well looks like we are visiting the museum today.

"Maybe we could start with this," Sherlock said, his voice still cracking.

He grabbed my arm and headed off down the street. I looked over my shoulder to see John reading the note for Soo Lin. Sherlock pulled me to the side before John noticed.

"Look at me," he said.

I scrunched up my face but didn't argue. He looked into my eyes with a small flashlight he had taken from his pocket.

"You might have a small concussion. You need to go home, but don't go to sleep until I get back," he demanded.

He took a step away from me as John caught up with us. I gave Sherlock a pouty gaze, trying to get out of having to go home. However it did not work, his look was firm.

"You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold? John obliviously asked.

Sherlock's eyes never left my face as he told John he was fine. I knew he was waiting for me to reveal I wasn't joining them at the museum. I sighed quietly but knew I had no other choice Sherlock was adamant.

"I think I'm gonna head home. I'm starving and it's been a long day." I grumpily said.

John looked at me immediately, I looked anywhere but at him, worried he'd notice my mood or small injury from the earlier fight. Instead, he hailed a taxi for me.

"Ok Liz. Get some rest. This is an entirely too dangerous situation for you anyways. You're making me nervous." he truthfully told me, but made it seem like a joke.

Sherlock pulled the door to the taxi open waiting for me to hop in. I rolled my eyes and did as I was supposed to. Sherlock told the driver the address and then looked me in the eyes.

"No sleep." he reminded me.

I smiled shyly and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek. He moved a strand of my hair away and checked my head. I pulled away and told him I was fine before I pushed him back out the window. I waved at John who was playing on his mobile as we pulled away. I looked back to see Sherlock still staring at my taxi. He was a seriously confusing man. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. My head really did hurt, as much as I hated to admit it, I was glad to be going home. My eyes popped open as I realized I had furniture being delivered today. I had gotten the go-ahead earlier from the mold inspector. Everything had come back ok, so I was free to move in. I looked in my bag and remembered John still had my keys. Damn. Id have to have Mrs. Hudson let me in. The taxi came to a stop and I quickly paid the fare. I stepped outside and made my way to the door. I stepped inside and headed for Mrs. Hudson's apartment.

I knocked loudly and only seconds later the kind faced woman answered the door.

"Oh hello dear. I was just about to call you. The store only just finished delivering your furniture." she cheerfully told me.

A smile graced my lips, I was so excited to have my own place again.

"Great. Can you let me in, John has my keys." I told her.

She grabbed the spare set and we went to my new apartment. I was literally hopping from one foot to the other as she opened the door. My brows furrowed when I noticed the freshly painted walls. Mrs. Hudson smiled coyly at my expression.

"Your Mr. Watson hired workers to come over and paint the walls. I was nervous about the color he chose, but he assured me you'd love it," she said.

I stepped inside and looked at the beautiful grey color now covering my walls. He knew it was my favorite. I wiped tears from my face and grabbed Mrs. Hudson, hugging her gently.

"I do love it. This looks like an entirely different apartment." I mused.

I started removing the white sheets covering my new furniture. I smiled at Mrs. Hudson when I noticed her helping me. Two hours and some take away later, we were finally done rearranging everything. I had not allowed her to help move anything, but she was still very helpful. She hung some wall ornaments and was pretty amazing at helping me to know exactly where the furniture would look best. I didn't have to move a thing after I had placed it where she told me to.

I threw myself onto my new black leather couch, having just finished my bedroom. The only thing I had left to do was bring everything I had upstairs. Mrs. Hudson had just left to rest up in her own apartment. I was so grateful I had someone like her around. She reminded me so much of my own mother. Sometimes it was like I still had her. I stood up and headed upstairs to grab my bags. I folded the blankets I had been using and left them on the couch. I lugged my bags back downstairs. I was beginning to worry about the boys, but staying busy helped keep my mind off it. I locked my door behind me and started unloading all my books onto the shelf above my fireplace.

I didn't have many left, _he_ wouldn't allow me to buy any. He always called them a distraction from what's important...him. After I hung all the clothes that needed it and folded and put away the rest, I was back on the couch. I laid back on a pillow and rested my eyes.

 ** _Two Hours Later_**

I shot up as loud banging could be heard from upstairs. Someone was yelling and stomping around. Fearfully I grabbed the bat that stood next to my door and leaned up against it, listening intently.

"Where is she, John? You have her keys!" Sherlock yelled.

I heard another loud bang as Johns' voice took on a louder octave.

"I don't know Sherlock all her stuff is gone! Why would she take off?!"

I unlocked my door and left the bat behind.

Did they really think I took off? I met Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of the stairs and frowned at her.

"They are going positively insane. You should make yourself known dear." She chuckled.

I headed upstairs quietly, still amazed by their reaction.

"What did you do Sherlock? She would never leave without telling me!" John hatefully accused.

I could hear Sherlock pacing quickly. "Nothing John. We have to find her! Could it be her ex?" Sherlock said with fear.

I couldn't listen anymore. I knocked on the door and moved my hand away, feeling silly. Why did I knock? I heard the men silence themselves. I slowly opened the door and pushed myself inside. John was the first to greet me, pulling me into a grateful hug.

"Liz! Where have you been!" he said in shock.

I pulled away and looked into Sherlocks still fearful eyes.

"I've been in my apartment. You lot are insane, I had Mrs. Hudson let me in. Or did you forget I had everything delivered today?" I laughed in amazement.

Both men gave me bashful looks.

"Thank you for the walls, John. I love it. You should come look. Everything is all done." I told them both.

I noticed their exhaustion and waved away my last comment.

"Nevermind you need to rest. Tell me everything you found out in the morning." I said, giving John one last hug.

I headed back downstairs and to my own apartment. Still shaking my head at them. I closed my door behind me and jumped into the shower. I let the hot water run over, washing away the long and somewhat terrible day. I didn't know what the boys had learned at the museum, but whatever it was wasn't good. I could tell by the expressions on their faces. I grabbed my honey shampoo and scrubbed my hair clean, enjoying the heavenly scent.

After my shower, I threw on my favorite silk nightgown, blew my hair dry, and slipped into bed. I was only lying there for five minutes at best when I heard a knock on my door. I threw back my covers with a huff and stood up, moving to the living room. I brushed my fingers through my hair and opened the door. I leaned against the frame and looked into the blue/green eyes of Sherlock Holmes.

"What can I do for you, Holmes?" I asked in worry.

His face still held a hidden pain, and I was beginning to worry about him. He ruffled his hair and frowned down at me.

"Soo Lin is dead," he said, fretful.

I stepped aside and gently took his hand leading him to the couch. I waited for him to sit before I took the seat beside him.

"Ok, tell me what happened," I asked, pushing my exhaustion away.

He needed me, I wasn't sure why but I knew he did. I sat back my unease growing heavier as his story went on. Once he was finished I took a deep breath.

"Ok, so we are dealing with an ancient Chinese syndicate. The Black Lotus..." I muttered.

He nodded, looking at me like I was about to bolt.

"Ok, well then tomorrow I'll help you at the morgue. I'm assuming you need proof. Van Coon and Lukis should have the same tattoo Soo Lin did, correct?" I asked, confidently.

His eyes widened for a moment before his face went back to its usual blank expression. He thought he was impossible to read, which amused me. I could read him like a book, yes he was confusing, but that didn't mean I didn't know him well. Even if we are still new to one another.

"You still want to help?" he asked me in confusion.

I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Of course Sherlock. I'm not going anywhere, but when I start work I won't be able to help as much. Just so you remember." I told him with a grin.

He put his nose in my hair before I felt him slowly inhale. He was smelling my hair! I chose to allow him to think I hadn't noticed. I lifted my head off his shoulder and froze as our faces were once again, only inches apart. I could smell his breath on my face, wintergreen...It was nice. My eyes moved to his lips against my will. I was leaning closer without even noticing. It wasn't until I could feel his nose on mine that I realized. His eyes were raking my face, his breathing heavy and labored. I knew how inexperienced he was, which made the moment between us even more special. Could he have feelings for me? Could I be developing feelings for him? Out of all the woman in the world...me? His nose slid down my cheek moving towards my lips. I gripped his shirt tightly, wrapping my other arm around his neck. Just when he was about to touch my lips with his own a loud knock on the door snapped us back into reality. The strange energy that had filled the air was quickly dissipating.

He pulled away as fast as he could. He stood moving away from me. I tried to make eye contact, but he wouldn't look at me. I cleared my throat and walked to the door. Before I opened it I looked at Sherlock again. I could sense how badly he wanted to leave, but I hesitated. I didn't want things to be weird between us. Especially when I didn't even understand what had just happened. Why make a big deal out of it.

"Sher, what happened...it's not a big deal. It was probably stress. Let's not complicate things right now." I said.

He finally looked at me and I tried to make my face casual. I could visibly see the tension and fear lift from his shoulders. Before he could speak I opened the door.

"Johnny, it seems like this is the place for late night chatting." I joked pushing the door further open so he could see Sherlock.

Johns's face fell into amusement.

"Just who I was looking for. I thought we agreed to leave her alone for the night," he said with a raised brow.

Sherlock stepped past me in a rush of wintergreen, making my traitorous heart speed up.

"Yes, well I thought she needed to know." he quickly said.

John pulled him towards the stairs.

"Goodnight Lizzie," he said looking straight at Sherlock.

I waved them goodbye before shutting and locking my door. I leaned against it breathing heavily.

Wow. What. A. Night.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**_*Sorry for the long wait. I went through a bout of writer's block. I hope the longer chapter makes up for it. As always a heartfelt thanks to all my readers. Thank you for all your reviews. Please let me know what you think*_**

I was just finishing breakfast when there was a loud pounding on my front door. I stood up brushing crumbs from my mouth. I unlocked my door and was pushed to the side as Sherlock sped into my apartment.

"You know it was much more convenient when you lived upstairs," he said.

I looked outside to make sure John wasn't waiting to be let in, when I didn't find him I shut and locked the door, shaking my head.

"Good morning Sherlock, would you like a coffee?" I ask exasperated.

He was the most high maintenance man I had ever met.

"Yes, that would be nice," he said looking through my books.

I frowned at him and went to the kitchen to pour him a cup.

"You have an odd taste in books," he said, surprised.

I laughed at his audacity and handed him his coffee.

"What is odd about my taste in literature?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

I was very protective of my books, and the fictional characters they held.

"They are almost all YA novels," he said.

I nodded, as if to say and what of it? Getting my gesture he continued.

"Well, do you only read teenage fantasies?" he laughed.

I slapped his shoulder and sat down at the table.

"Excuse me, there is nothing wrong with loving YA novels. I love a good fantasy and YA novels have only the best." I explained, drinking my coffee.

"Not all of us love to read about tobacco ash." I teased.

"Touche'." he laughed.

I offered him the seat in front of me, and he sat, crossing his legs.

"So, would you like to explain your early visit? Or do you not realize it's only six a.m?" I asked, with a yawn.

He took a sip of his coffee staring at me intently.

"When do you start work?" he asked out of the blue.

I smiled at his question as I buttered some toast for him. I made him a plate of leftover eggs and bacon. I added the toast and handed over the plate.

"Eat," I ordered.

He stared at the food incredulously. I tapped my fingers on the table irritatingly.

"Sherlock, you have to eat. I know you think it slows you down, but that's bullshit. Eating breakfast has been proven to improve brain function." I stated simply.

His eyes grew in shock at my foul language. I stood up and moved to the chair right beside him. Picking up his toast I lifted it to his mouth coyly.

"Come on Sher, you know you want to," I said, never looking away from his eyes.

He bit into the toast with a small growl. I pulled my hand away with a laugh.

"See. Food is good Sher, now to your previous question. I start tomorrow." I said, watching him eat, feeling proud of myself.

He stopped eating to look at me, fear present in his eyes.

"So, I guess you won't be joining me on cases anymore," he said, his voice cold.

I ran my fingers through his curly hair with a sigh.

"Sher, I'll still join you, just not as much. It's not like I'm moving across the country. I have to work, how else will I make money?" I asked with a smile.

He grumbled, filling his mouth with food. I hadn't even noticed until he gave me an odd look, that I had still been playing with his hair. I chuckled, pulling away, but he grabbed my hand putting it back in his hair. I leaned on his shoulder, enjoying how peaceful everything felt in this quiet moment. My phone interrupted us, I pulled away hearing Sherlock sigh loudly. It was nice between us right now, easy, there was no need for awkward labels or expectations. I gave my phone a hateful look as I lifted it to my ear.

Sherlock watched me closely as I talked.

"Hello?" I asked.

The person on the other end surprised me greatly, how had he gotten my number?

"Hi, this is Detective Inspector Dimmock. I was calling to ask if you might be free for lunch today?" he hopefully asked.

I only just held back my surprised laugh.

"Give me a second to check my calendar." I cheerfully said.

I put my phone on mute and started laughing.

"Who was that?" Sherlock asked hatefully.

"Hey watch the attitude, Sher. It was DI Dimmock, he wants to go to lunch." I laughed.

Sherlock's face fell. "A date? I thought you weren't dating," he asked.

I leaned in closer to him.

"Im not love, i'm as surprised as you are," I explained.

He finished his food and took his plate to the sink, washing it. I enjoyed the view of domesticated Sherlock before pulling the phone to my ear.

"Sorry, it took so long. I'm not free today. Maybe another time." I politely said, earning a glare from Sherlock.

He sounded dejected but told me he'd call me back another time. I hung up my phone and cleaned the table off. Sherlock decided to take a tour of my apartment, slipping into my room. I tossed the paper towel I had used to clean the table into the garbage and followed him. I stood in my doorway and watched him walk around the room, looking at all my pictures. He stopped at the one my bedside table and I froze. He examined it curiously and I tapped my fingers against my folded arms.

"When was this taken?" he quietly asked me.

I walked to him and took a long look at the picture. It was of John and myself cuddled together on the beach. We were facing the ocean, he had been sitting behind me, his arms wrapped around my body. We hadn't even known the picture was being taken. We were just enjoying the sunset.

"We were eighteen, it was taken when we went on holiday with our friends," I told him, unable to hide a smile.

It was a good memory.

"And you keep it by your bed?" he sighed, putting the picture back down.

I took his arm and pulled him towards me.

"Why the sullen attitude? John is my best friend, of course, I have pictures of us. That's not something that is going to change." I stated.

He looked anywhere but at me, and I grasped his chin, turning his face towards mine.

"Sher, you've been acting odd. Is everything ok?" I asked.

He pulled away from me and headed towards the kitchen.

"Are you still in love with John?" he stuttered.

I stopped in my tracks, surprised by his question.

"Am I in love with Johnny?" I laughed.

I grabbed my robe from the back of my door, not really wanting to have a serious conversation in my silk nightie. I sat on the couch and looked straight into Sherlock's eyes.

"No Sherlock I am not. I will always love him, but no I'm not in love with him." I said, annoyed by the whole conversation.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped and he sat next to me.

"I don't know whats going on with me. I don't understand sentiment, it's a weakness, one I will not tolerate. But then I get near you, and my whole world implodes. You're different, and I don't know how to deal with that." he honestly told me.

Well, I had really been hoping to avoid this conversation.

"I don't know what to say, Sher. How about we just work on our friendship, then just see where it goes." I leaned in, pulling him into a hug.

"I care about you, but we are still so new to one another. Let's not make a mountain out of a mole here." I grinned, using an old saying my mom would use.

His eyes softened and he smiled. I stood up and pulled him with me.

"Ok well, your welcome to stay but i'm gonna jump into the shower. We do have a lot to do today." I said.

Sherlock shifted from one foot to another. I chuckled and walked to the door and held it open.

"Staying or leaving?" I asked mischievously.

He ran his hand through his hair and headed into the hallway.

"I better go get John up for the day. We have to go to Scotland yard, then the morgue, so we should get going soon." He nervously said.

I kissed him on the cheek, much to his surprise. "No awkwardness Sher, everything between us is ok," I assured him before waving goodbye.

I shut the door and continued to the bathroom for a shower.

A few hours later John, Sherlock, and I stood in front of Dimmock's desk, frowns on all our faces. This man was infuriating. He stood, his back towards us, rummaging through paperwork. It was obvious he was trying to ignore our protests.

"How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac is out there?" John huffed.

I crossed my arms and glared daggers at him. Dimmock turned and walked in between us, heading for another desk. John turned around and followed him. I was proud of his backbone, he used to be a lot shyer and would take a lot of bull before ever standing up for himself.

"A young girl was gunned down last night. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him." John firmly said.

Sherlock walked in front of John to get closer to Dimmock. John headed over to me, throwing his hands up in exasperation. I patted his shoulder and joined Sherlock.

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers - a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose," Sherlock said, leaning in closer to Dimmock to emphasize his last point.

Finally, Dimmock decided to meet his gaze. "Can you prove that?" he sighed.

I nodded enthusiastically. "That's where I come in."

 **Barts Hospital Morgue**

Sherlock and I found Molly in the canteen, staring at the self-service display.

"What are you thinking: pork or pasta?" I asked her.

She spun around, surprised by my voice. "Elisabeth! What are you doing here?" she smiled.

"Liz or Lizzie is just fine. Actually, i'm here on behalf of Sherlock here. This is his mission." I said, motioning towards Sherlock.

Her brow crinkled for a moment before looking at him.

"I'd stick with the pasta. Don't wanna be doing pork - not if your slicing up cadavers." he joked.

I grimaced at his poor humor. He really was hopeless. She grinned nervously at him.

"What are you having?" she asked him, nodding to the display.

"Don't eat when i'm working. Digestion slows me down," he told her.

I took a few steps back, feeling like an intruder. There was obviously something between the two. What that was, I wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it's definitely there.

"So you're working here tonight?" she asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Yep, she was a smitten kitten.

"Need to examine some bodies," he said.

Molly looked confused for a moment.

"Some?" she asked.

"Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis." he stated.

Molly lifted her clipboard and looked it over. "They're on my list," she said.

Sherlock turned on the puppy dog eyes, making my jealousy flare up. What was he playing at?

"Can you wheel them out again for me?" he pouted.

Molly's face looked doleful, she clearly wanted to give Sherlock whatever he wanted.

"Well...the paperwork has already gone through." she tried to explain to him.

Did he really wanna get her in trouble? I was starting to feel sorry for Molly, it was plain to see, she was in love with Sherlock. He had to know that. Sherlock's eyes lifted a little like he was just noticing something.

"You've...changed your hair," he said, pointing at her parted hair.

Molly started patting her hair nervously.

"...What?" she stuttered.

I couldn't watch the poor girls googly eyes any longer. I quietly stepped out of the canteen, going completely unnoticed. I started down the hallway and towards the morgue. I could easily wait outside until Sherlock's shameful flirting was over and done with. Was this going to be what I had to deal with on a regular basis now? I felt so bad for Molly, being hurt by someone you love is devastating, especially if those feelings aren't returned. But maybe they were, maybe Sherlock really did like her.

I found John and Dimmock standing beside the morgue door. Looks like I wasn't the only one who knew Molly would fold. Heck, I didn't even need to be here for this. Sherlock had it covered. Five minutes later Sherlock and Molly met us at the morgue door. Sherlock eyeing me curiously. Molly led Dimmock and John inside, as I was about to walk in, Sherlock pulled me to the side.

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

I pulled my arm from his.

"Sherlock, you're on a case," I said, wanting to avoid the conversation.

That's all he needed to remind him of what was important. We headed inside and found two body bags lying on adjacent tables. I stepped over to Molly and pulled on some gloves. She smiled brightly at me.

"Wanna help me Lizzie?" she asked.

I stood straighter, my professionalism kicking in. I actually missed this.

"Of course." I grinned.

I leaned in and unzipped the top of the bags, to reveal the faces of Van Coon and Lukis. Sherlock stared at me, an amused expression on his face.

"The feet?" I asked Sherlock.

He nodded and I lifted Lukis right foot from the bag. I checked the bottom of his right heel and gave Dimmock a satisfied smile. I showed them the small tattoo of a black lotus flower. Identical to the one on Soo Lin's foot. Sherlock straightened up, a smug smile on his face and walked with me over to the body of Van Coon. I looked at Molly, asking if she wanted the honors. I traded places with her, removing my gloves. I washed my hands as Sherlock showed Dimmock Van Coons Lotus flower tattoo.

"Oh!" I heard Sherlock sarcastically say.

"So..." Dimmock said awkwardly.

I joined them again, enjoying Dimmock's uncomfortable posture.

"So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlor or I'm telling the truth," Sherlock answered.

Dimmock sighed in resignation. "What do you want?"

Sherlock stepped closer to Dimmock. "I want every book from Lukis apartment and Van Coons." he firmly said.

Dimmocks face was priceless. "Their books?" he said, unbelieving.

 **Back at 221B**

We walked into the living room, taking off our coats as we went. John sat in his chair with a heavy sigh of contentment. Sherlock stood by the window, lost in his mind. I threw my bag on the couch and sat on the armrest of John's chair.

"Not just a criminal organization; it's a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders." John said a matter of factly.

I nodded in agreement. "Soo Lin said the name, didn't she?" I asked them.

"Yes, Shan; General Lee Shan," Sherlock told me.

Never looking away from the window.

"We're still no closer to finding them." John worriedly added.

"Wrong. We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces." Sherlock said, waiting for us to agree.

"It won't be that easy Sher, the decoder could be anything," I said nervously.

Sherlock ignored my statement and went on.

"Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?" Sherlock mumbled.

John and I both thought of the question for a moment before it snapped into place for me.

"She worked at a museum," I said, slapping my forehead.

"Exactly," Sherlock said.

I crossed my legs and tapped my thigh, a nervous habit.

"An expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see." John said, finally catching on.

I placed my hand on his head, ruffling his hair. He brushed me off with a playful sigh.

"Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchases on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution." Sherlock explained, reminding me of a professor I had in America.

"And the Black Lotus is selling them," he stated.

Not long after our talk on the Black Lotus. We were all in separate parts of the apartment. Sherlock sat at the dining room table surfing for recent auctions. Focusing on any showcasing Chinese or Asian works. I sat in the living room on my phone doing the same. John stood in the kitchen making us all tea. The entire apartment was silent apart from the light sounds of Sherlocks and my typing. Or the occasional sound of John moving around in the kitchen. It was an uneasy, but comfortable silence.

"Check for the dates." I heard Sherlock mumble to himself.

"Here Elisabeth," Sherlock said, pointing to something.

I stood and walked over to see what he had found. I looked over his shoulder at the screen.

"Mmm." I hummed.

He pointed to a particular auction lot - two Chinese Ming vases.

"Arrived from China four days ago," Sherlock said, excitedly.

He ran his finger down the details and landed on sales information at the bottom. Source - Anonymous.

Damn.

"Anonymous. The vendor doesn't give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East." I said, annoyed.

"One in Lukis suitcase and one in Van Coons," John said, handing us cups of tea.

I looked down at my phone and accessed the search engine.

"...Antiquities sold at auction." I said while typing.

I waited for the results to pop up, blowing on my hot tea. "Look, here's another one," I told Sherlock.

I bent down so he could look at my phone.

"Mmm," he mumbled.

"Arrived from China a month ago: Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred thousand," I said.

John grabbed Lukis journal and looked between it and Sherlock's screen.

"Ah, look a month before that - a Chinese painting, half a million," he told us, showing Sherlock the journal entry.

"All of them from an anonymous source. They're sealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain." I said, slightly impressed.

John gave me an incredulous look and shook his head. I took a look over John's shoulder and back at the computer screen, matching more of the entries.

"Every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon traveling to China," I stated.

"So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?" Sherlock guessed.

"That's why Zhi Zu's come," John answered.

A knock at the door caused me to jump, almost spilling my tea. I rolled my eyes at myself, as Mrs. Hudson's voice filled the room.

"Ooh-Ooh"

The boys turned towards her voice, waiting for an explanation.

"What do you need Mrs. Hudson," I asked politely.

She motioned towards something out in the hallway, with confusion on her face.

"Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's annoyed voice came from behind me. "What?"

Mrs. Hudson came further inside wringing her hands together.

"A young man's outside with crates of books," she said.

Shortly afterward, two unarmed police officers were carrying in yet another plastic crate to add to the many that had already been dumped in the living room.

"Right, so...fifteen and one: that means..." John asked, trailing off at the end.

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read." Sherlock simply stated.

John nodded his head lifting one of the books from its crate.

"Okay. So what's the message?" John asked.

Sherlock caught my gaze and rolled his eyes.

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. It has to be a book they both owned." Sherlock snarkily said.

"Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long. Should it!?" John asked, hopeful.

I lifted my own book from one of the numerous crates, sighing tiredly. This was going to take forever!

I sat the book down on top of a small stack of others, lifting them into my arms I stumbled over to the couch. I sat my small stack on the coffee table and threw myself onto the couch with a humph. Sherlock eyed me warily. I gave him a half smile and started on my first book, as he headed to get his own. I heard someone coming up the stairs and met the gaze of the boys with a shrug.

Dimmock stepped into the living room with an evidence bag in his hand.

"We found these, at the museum," he said.

He showed the bag to John and I noticed the photographs Sherlock had taken of the ciphers. Ignoring the rest of their conversation, I went back to work. I only tuned in again when Sherlock snidely told Dimmock, in not so many words, to shut up and leave. I looked over my book at Sherlock, who was still eyeing Dimmock with disdain clear on his face.

Dimmock looked to me and I quickly avoided his gaze. I heard footsteps nearing me and closed my eyes in annoyance. I put the book on my lap and scooted over as Dimmock sat next to me.

"So Liz, when this is all over how about that lunch?" he asked me.

I ground my teeth together trying to remain calm. I saw Sherlock watching us, a panicked look on his face.

"Listen, I would, but I just started seeing someone." I lied.

"Since this morning?" he asked unbelievingly.

I squinted at him in frustration. "Its an ex of mine, well not anymore, I guess. We have been talking lately and just decided to give it a go again. Sorry." I said, feigning regret.

"Well, if that doesn't work out, you have my number." he smiled.

I tilted my head and lifted the book up, hiding my face. He finally got the point and headed out.

A small cough alerted me to someone trying to get my attention. I put the book down, reaching for another.

"Yes John, can I help you?" I asked, annoyed.

"So which of your two exes are you currently dating at the moment," he smirked.

I kept my gaze on the book and answered plainly. "Well, ones a psycho and the other an ass. So, neither. I just denied his advances, without hurting his ego." I stated, with a shrug.

John smirked at me, grabbing another book for himself. I tossed the book I had just picked up, annoyed. After I finished my pile, I stood and made my way to the crates to grab another. I chanced a glance at Sherlock, whose eyes were glued to a book in front of him. I stood in place going through book after book, unable to sit anymore. Sherlock's deep voice brought our attention back to him.

"Cigarette.", he said, slamming the book shut.

John and I looked at him with a shrug. Sherlock leaned into the crate in front of him rummaging through it.

"Coffee anyone?" I asked the boys.

They both nodded in unison. I headed into the kitchen and looked through the cabinets. Of course, we're out of coffee.

"Guys, we are all out of coffee. I'm gonna head to the shop." I said, getting no response.

I grabbed my coat and headed out. If I was going to pull an all-nighter I'd definitely need to buy coffee.

Hours and many, many books later.

I woke up quickly, a sudden slamming noise shattering my dream.

"A book that everybody would own," Sherlock said to himself, pulling books from his shelf.

I looked him over, he had been at it all night. I sighed and sat up, stretching myself out. I felt something stuck to my face and brushed it off. A post-it note started falling into my lap.

A reminder that I'm due at work today. John must have stuck it to my face, knowing id forget. I quickly glanced at my watch and gasped. I had an hour to get dressed and get there. I hate being late, so I hopped over the coffee table and ran downstairs, slamming the door behind me.

I showered in haste and threw on a simple outfit. I headed back upstairs throwing on my coat and bag as I went. As I stepped inside I heard Sherlock talking to John.

"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight.", he told him.

I smiled and grabbed myself a to-go cup of tea. God bless Mrs. Hudson and her early morning tea and biscuits. I tossed a few into my pocket and started eating one on the way towards the door.

Neither man noticed me as they discussed Johns date tonight.

I wasn't at all surprised, he had already told me about

Stephanie...Samantha...Sarah, yeah Sarah.

I thought I had gotten away Scott free until Sherlock stopped me.

"Now, where are you going?", he asked me, annoyed.

I spun around in a rush. "Sher, I have to go to work remember? It's Monday love." I explained in a huff.

John fled quickly, passing beside me with a simple pat on the shoulder. I waved apologetically at Sherlock and ran downstairs. John stood beside a taxi, holding the door open for me.

"Thank you, Johnny," I said. He closed the door and waved goodbye as we sped forward.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**_*Let me know what you think. I also have a picture of Liz's dress on the stories Wattpad page, or you can feel free to pm me. Enjoy! *_** I pushed open the doors of the morgue and headed inside, sitting my, now empty cup, on my new desk. I laid my coat and bag on my chair and looked through my paperwork. I had five bodies to get through today and I could already feel exhaustion seeping in. My punishment for staying up with Sherlock all night. I really needed to get my priorities straight. I filled my cup with scalding hot coffee from the machine on my desk( Molly's welcome gift to me). I made a mental note to thank Molly for having a pot ready. Heading out of the office I slipped on my white lab coat. After finishing my coffee, I got started.

I pushed my second body of the day into the drawer, as Molly came inside with a coy smile on her face. I raised my brow in question, but before she could explain, the answer walked inside in a rush of wintergreen. I closed the drawer and filled my cup with coffee.

"Hello Holmes, can we help you?" I asked.

I had only been at work for four hours. What could he possibly need? He eyed Molly, who was looking through my completed paperwork, before answering me.

"I came to ask you to accompany me to the circus tonight." he slyly said, handing me a flyer for the Yellow Dragon circus.

I looked it over, knowing immediately what his interest in the circus was. Molly however misunderstood. She slammed the files she held onto my desk and quickly excused herself.

"Well done Sherlock," I said, completely unamused by his antics.

His confused face almost broke through my resolve, but I reminded myself that he had to be able to see what he had done wrong. He was Sherlock bloody Holmes after all.

"Can you really not see it? Or are you just too much of an ass to care?" I asked him, stepping closer so that I could see every emotion hidden in his eyes.

I wanted to know if he was lying.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, playing dumb.

"You know Sherlock, ignorance doesn't look good on you. Im talking about Molly." I said throwing my hands in the air. "You cannot just play with her emotions, just because you have a better control of yours doesn't mean everyone does. That poor woman is in love with you Sherlock, and let me tell you something your not an easy person to love." I said, not realizing my mistake until it was too late.

His face brightened in an instant. I clamped my mouth shut, my jaw tightening at his reaction. He was stunned speechless which must be a very new experience for him.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I meant, that your very hard to deal with." I said trying to cover my mistake.

I didn't even know if I meant it the way it sounded, but I knew now was not the time to find out. He turned his head staring at something to my left.

"I'm sorry if I made you angry. That was not my intention." he plainly said, completely missing my point.

"Oh, Sherlock. I'm not angry at you. I'm just disappointed. You are a brilliant man, but the way you handle certain things baffles me. You need to stop playing with Molly. If you need something call me, and _I'll_ handle Molly." I huffed.

I just couldn't watch him purposely hurt her anymore, she didn't deserve that. I understood that him having never been in love before would make it harder for him to understand how she felt, but _I_ had been in love before. Which meant her pain was all too real to me. I closed my eyes for a second trying to forget the memory of my ex. The way he was before he showed me his true colors. His dark hair and eyes shining mischievously as he joked with me. His accent, which always sent chills down my spine, reading to me during a thunderstorm. I shook the thoughts from my head and looked at Sherlock. He was studying me an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" I asked him irritated.

I was usually so good at keeping those unwanted memories at bay, but the way he treated Molly had brought them to the forefront of my mind for some reason.

"Who were you just thinking of?" he asked me quietly.

I walked past him, grabbing a new file from my desk.

"No one of importance Sher. Just memories of the past." I answered flatly.

He watched me work for a few minutes, annoying me greatly.

"So, are you joining me tonight?" he finally asked.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at him.

"Sherlock, if it got you out of my way for the rest of the day, I'd follow you to Mount Doom." I pleaded.

His gaze was making me entirely too nervous. A small smile quirked up the edge of his mouth.

"Well then, don't dawdle on your way home," he said.

I shook my head at him in amusement.

"So, are you going to tell John the real reason your interested in this circus? Or are we just going to show up and ruin his date?" I asked, staring at him accusingly.

Sherlock's brows furrowed. "I'm still getting used to your superior intellect. I imagine we will just show up," he stated with a shrug.

He didn't even care about John's ruined night. I contemplated calling him but decided to mind my own business. John can take care of himself. I nodded as I broke the ribs of the corpse in front of me. Sherlock watched without even the slightest grimace. I smiled at him wondering why he was still standing there watching me.

"I thought we had a deal, Sher? You're supposed to be leaving, love." I laughed.

He looked up at me and briskly spun around, his coat swishing behind him.

"See you tonight Sher, be good!" I shouted at his disappearing figure.

His head popped back inside for a moment.

"Your corpse died of asphyxiation. When you get his blood results you'll see he was drunk. When he passed out he drowned in his own vomit." he said, speed talking.

I gave him my best, well duh, look and shooed him away laughing.

 ** _Lucky Dragon-Evening_**

I stepped out of the cab, pushing my dress down. I hated wearing dresses but Sherlock insisted we dress up. Although, this one was beautiful. I had gone out on my lunch break to find something suitable after receiving a text from Sherlock. It was black, the front ending at my knees with the back ending at my ankles. It had a simple lace design that made it seem dressier than what it really was. The only downfall to it was it was sleeveless, so I paired it with my leather jacket. I wobbled a bit as I exited the taxi my high heeled boots getting caught in a small hole on the street. Sherlock steadied me and I gave him a grateful smile.

"You look lovely," he told me.

I straightened myself and offered him my thanks. We walked up the slope leading to the building that housed the circus. In the distance, I heard a familiar flirty voice. I pulled on Sherlock's arm, telling him to slow down.

"Its John and his date. Let's give them a few minutes." I smiled slyly.

I knew it had been a while for John. He hadn't had the best luck since returning home. He probably really needed this date to end well. Sherlock scrunched up his face at me.

"Why?" he asked confused.

I felt my face light up as he waited for my response. I did not want to be the one to try and explain this to him. That was John's job.

"Sherlock, I...I. Just trust me." I begged him embarrassedly.

He studied my face, probably confused by my suddenly shy behavior. His face fell into one of understanding.

"You mean he is trying to have it off with her." Sherlock said in understanding.

I looked away unable to meet his gaze for some reason. "Yes, Sherlock." I sighed.

I started walking, having given John plenty of space.

"Why are you trying to help him?" Sherlock asked me in confusion.

I laughed lightly and grabbed his arm pulling him with me.

"Because Sher, it's what friends do for one another. In America, they call it being a wingman. John deserves a little fun." I explained.

It was silent between us as we continued towards an unknowing John. I looked up a Sherlock, his face was quizzical like he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem. I cleared my throat and decided to ease his mind.

"Sherlock, its fun. Sharing that kind of connection with another person is incredibly satisfying. That's why it's so important to him. A relationship is something everyone should experience once, especially the physical part." I told him, pulling my coat close.

This was quickly becoming the most awkward experience of my life.

"If you have questions, I suggest asking him sometime." I quietly finished before walking further ahead. Giving him a moment to process.

"Right, yes! Well, it's...a friend recommended it to me. He phoned up." I heard John tell his date.

I stayed in the shadows, I felt Sherlock join me. Sliding his hand into mine. I looked up at him in mild shock. We followed behind John into the box office.

"Hi, I have two tickets reserved for tonight," John told the manager.

"And what's the name?" the man asked John.

I watched him fumble with his jacket, pulling out his wallet.

"Er, Holmes." John stuttered.

The manager stepped back to the window with an envelope in his hands. Sherlock started pulling me forward, making his intentions for the hand holding known. I sighed internally at my own stupidity. Of course, he had an ulterior motive, he always does.

"Actually, I have four in that name." the manager mumbled.

John's quizzical face made me feel terrible.

"No, I don't think so. We only booked two." John tried.

I looked away as Sherlock pulled me into view. "And then I phoned back and got two more." Sherlock smiled.

John looked up at Sherlock, an adorable picture of disbelief. He should have known better. I shared a look with Sarah, both of us beginning to become uncomfortable with the silent staring contest going on between the two _heterosexual_ males beside us. I sighed loudly and reached my hand out to Sarah.

"Hello, Im Elisabeth Riley. An old friend of John's." I said with a smile.

Sherlock scoffed lightly beside me. I nudged him none too gently and pulled his hand forward. He begrudgingly offered his to her.

"Im Sherlock." he said plainly.

Sarah glanced at John momentarily, before turning back to us a nervous expression on her face. I debated with myself for a moment before giving in and deducing her. Smart, Shy, intimidated by Sherlock and John's relationship, in all she is nice and average. Exactly what John needs right now, even if it won't last long. Finally, Sarah shook Sherlock's hand.

"Er, hi." she mumbled.

Sherlock removed his hand from hers quickly gripping mine. "Hello." he flatly said. He gave her one last fake smile before swiftly letting my hand go and walking away.

"Lizzie, what are you two doing here?" John asked me accusingly.

I fiddled with my jacket sleeve and avoided Johns gaze.

"He asked me to join him tonight and I agreed." I mumbled refusing to be the one to tell him of Sherlocks true intentions.

Thankfully, the man in question joined us again, pulling me away from the new couple.

"Don't you ever leave me like that again. I refuse to be invited somewhere and then left behind!" I hissed yanking my hand from his.

I was completely irritated by his behavior. I stepped up the stairs and left Sherlock behind, just as he had done to me. I stood off to the side as people filed past me. After a few minutes Sarah joined me.

"So, did you and John ever date?" she suddenly asked me.

I blushed deeply, unsure of how to approach the subject.

"Um, well, yes we did but it was when we were younger." I said hoping she'd let it go.

Her face filled with annoyance.

"Listen Sarah, John and I were kids. We ended things because we realized we were better as friends." I explained.

Luckily, before she could question me further, Sherlock and John joined us. I pulled Sherlock away from them and headed for the performance area. Glad to be away from the awkwardness.

"What was that about?" Sherlock asked confused. I looked up at him and sighed.

"Jealousy is a strange emotion." I plainly said.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed for a moment before he hid it. I looked around us, taking everything in. There was a large stage on one side of the room. However, it didn't look like the stage was going to be used tonight. A circle of candles had been laid out in the middle of the floor, about thirty feet in diameter. The room was eerie and dimly lit. Everyone started gathering around the circle. Their faces a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

There were no seats available so everyone remained standing. I looked at the small group of people around us, apparently ticket sales had been limited. There was enough room for everyone to stand around the circle with a clear view. Sarah and John stood side by side, while Sherlock and I stood behind them. My nerves were starting to get the best of me, so I kept a firm grasp on Sherlocks arm, earning me a questioning gaze. I gave him a half smile and looked ahead of us. Sherlock looked around the room, lifting his head towards the ceiling. I followed his gaze and tried to catch his train of thought. I looked at John as he started to mumble something to Sherlock, tilting his head away from Sarah so she wouldn't hear.

"You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is...art." John said grimacing with distaste.

I leaned in closer to John.

"This is not their day job." I said quietly.

"No, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers." John said sarcastically.

A rhythmic tapping filled the air as the performance started. We all turned as an ornately costumed woman stepped into the circle. She lifted her hand into the air to silence the drummer. Everyone was silent as she walked across the circle to the large object covered with a cloth, she pulled it back to reveal an antique crossbow. I shuddered as she picked up a long, thick, wooden arrow. She lifted it in the air, showing the audience the vicious metal point, before placing it in the crossbow. Straightening herself, she pulled a single white feather from her headdress and again showed it to the audience. We all watched as she walked over to the rear of the crossbow where there was a small metal cup. She placed the feather in the cup and instantly the arrow was released whizzing across the room. Sherlock's head whipped around as he followed its flight. I jumped slightly when the arrow thumped loudly on impact, sticking menacingly in a large painted bored across the room.

Sarah turned to John and laughed, dramatically placing her hand over her heart. My face paled as I realized how easily this could be used as a torture device. My mind always going to the worse case scenario, after years of seeing how dangerous even the smallest things could be when used by the wrong person. Instrumental music filled the air as the audience clapped enthusiastically. I stepped a little closer to the circle, intrigued as a man wearing chainmail and an ornate head masked came into view. He held his arms to the side as two men started to attach heavy chains and straps to him, strapping his now-folded arms in front of him. They backed him against the painted board and chained him up. I fiddled with my fingers feeling claustrophobic on behalf of him.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock whispered to John and Sarah.

"Hmm?" John asked.

I leaned closer to him and his date and smiled.

"The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires." I said excited to see the act.

Sherlock raised a brow impressed by my knowledge. My attention was back on the act as the woman loaded a arrow into the crossbow. More chains were attached to the man. His head now stuck against the board unable to be moved. Once they were finished tightening all of his straps they stepped away and the music started to intensify. When the cymbals crashed unexpectedly, Sarah jumped clutching John's arm tightly.

"Oh, Gawd! I'm sorry." she laughed in embarrassment.

John laughed with her smiling delightedly.

"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowel." Sherlock once again explained.

I patted his arm, laughing at his professor like behavior. The woman did just as Sherlock predicted and the sand began to pour into the bowl. The man started to struggle against his chains. The weight of the sand beginning to lower the ball closer and closer to the bowl that will release the arrow. Everyone around us held their breath in anticipation. Finally, the man was able to free one of his hands. He fumbled slightly, all the while John and Sarah watched different parts of the performance. John watched the mans progress while Sarah watched the bag of sand. We all waited as the warrior freed another hand and began tugging at the chain around his neck. The weight journeyed closer to the bowel as the warrior finally loosened the chains around his neck. He struggled with the rest of the chains as the weight touched the bowl, the arrow whizzed towards him and with a split second to spare he freed himself and jumped out of the way.

"Thank God!" Sarah said clapping her hands.

"My God!" John chuckled.

The warrior stood before us taking the applause. I looked away and noticed Sherlock heading towards the stage. I glanced at John, making sure he was still distracted and followed after him. I slipped onto the stage and pushed past the clothes that were hanging from the racks around me.

"Sherlock?" I whispered.

I felt a hand go over my mouth and gasped in fear.

"Shh, it's me." Sherlock said his warm breath tickling my ear.

I ripped his hand from my mouth and hit his shoulder.

"Don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I whispered frantically.

I stepped away from Sherlock, curious about what was causing all the gasps and applause outside. I pulled back the curtain abit and yanked on Sherlocks arm, as I watched a man twirl through the air using bits of material.

"Well Well." Sherlock said after he joined me.

To the right of us a door opened suddenly. I grabbed Sherlocks arm and pulled him behind a rack of clothes. The woman from the performance walked over to a dressing table, picking up a mobile phone. She looked through her messages until Sherlock accidentally pulled a hanger from the rack, causing a loud clang, the woman jumped eyeing the darkness. I looked at him and rolled my eyes. She headed towards us. In fear I pulled Sherlock to the floor falling on top of him as we went. I looked away from his shocked gaze and listened closely, luckily the woman walked right past us and back outside. I slowed my breathing and lowered my gaze back to Sherlock, somehow his hands had ended up on my hips. His fingers grazing my ass. I was surprised his face wasn't covered in a blush, instead his eyes were glazed, his breathing heavy.

"You can let me go Sher. She's gone." I whispered my mouth close to his.

He pulled me closer to him for a moment, before looking away, his eyes narrowing. He lifted me off of him and grabbed a nearby black bag. He flipped it open to reveal several cans of spray paint. I lifted one from the bag and looked at the label. A yellow band was placed across the bottom.

"Found you." Sherlock said in a sing song voice.

I stood and headed for the mirror closets to us. I sprayed a long thick line of paint against the glass. Proving, to us at least, that this was the exact paint that had been used to leave the messages. A sudden movement caught my attention, the warriors costume behind us had definitely moved. I pushed against Sherlocks shoulder and pointed towards where the costume had been, in its place, was a man. The man charged towards us, lashing out with a knife. I jumped away as Sherlock ducked backwards avoiding the deadly blade. The warrior pressed forward. I caught Sherlocks attention and tossed him the can of paint. He used it to block a blow from the warrior, ducking below the next swing of the man's knife. I felt helpless. I looked around frantically unable to find a suitable weapon. The man grabbed Sherlocks neck, dropping the knife in the process. I lunged for it but missed and the man kicked me in the side of the head. I fell to the ground dizzy.

Sherlock clawed at the man's hand that was still placed around his neck. I looked up at the sound of spray paint, which was being used by Sherlock. He continuously sprayed the man in the face. I stood up and barreled towards the man, shoving him away firmly. The warrior fell onto the floor, but used his momentum to raise his legs and move forward into a flip. I took a step back surprised. Sherlock stood beside me and the man took a flying leap at Sherlock, spinning as he went, his feet met Sherlocks chest propelling him backwards through the curtains, straight over the edge of the stage. I ran forward and jumped off the stage running towards Sherlock, who had landed on his back, which had winded him considerably.

The acrobat jumped off the stage and flew towards us. John moved straightaway, running towards the warrior who I was holding off. I forced him away fighting against the knife he was attempting to ram into my chest. I kicked him, pushing my fist into his face effectively moving him away from Sherlock. John slammed into him keeping him a bay while I caught my breath, and tried to help Sherlock up again. The warrior lashed out at John using his foot, knocking him to the ground. He started to head back towards me before realizing the audience had begun to flee around us, the acrobat removed his mask and looked between me and John. I stood firmly in front of Sherlock, my fists raised before me. John had recovered from the last blow and was now heading towards the man.

He took a moment to think and decided he wanted no part in the fight. He ran away quickly. The only person heading towards the fray was Sarah, who had taken the arrow from the painted bored and was planning to join the fight with it in hand. I raised my brow at her appreciatively. I liked her. Suddenly the man was back, this time a long bladed sword in his hands. He headed towards Sherlock, who had been his main objective the whole time. I tried to push him away but he grabbed my hair and flung me to the side. As he concentrated on sending a killing blow to the man at his feet, Sarah raced across the floor and slammed one end of the arrow over the top of the warriors head. He cried out in pain, before he could react I grabbed the arrow from Sarah's shaking hands and sent a second blow against his ribs. He writhed in pain and without hesitation I slammed it into his ribs again, sending him into unconsciousness.

Finally able to move Sherlock sat up and grabbed my hand pulling me towards him. He quickly looked me over, fear in his eyes. I pulled away from him and removed the warriors shoe, revealing a Tong tattoo on his heel. John finally managed to stand up straight, even though he almost doubled over in pain, his breathing still ragged. Sherlock scrambled to his feet as John grabbed Sarah's hand pulling her towards the exit. Sherlock and I raced ahead of them.

"Come on let's go." Sherlock said his voice rough.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**_***Sorry, for the long wait. Let me know what ya think!***_**

Sherlock led us into the living room of 221B Sarah following behind us; much to Sherlock's displeasure. He immediately stood in front of the fireplace, taking his coat off, he began staring at the pictures he still had stuck on the mirror.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow," John said, plopping into his chair, a nervous Sarah standing beside him.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for," Sherlock said.

I stood beside him and removed my own coat.

"We need to find their hideout; the rendezvous," I stated.

Sherlock walked closer to the pictures, studying them intensely. John stood, joining us; Sarah hovering nearby. I kinda felt bad for her this had to be the worst date she had ever been on. Sherlock ran his fingers over the main picture of the painted brick wall.

"Somewhere in this message it _must_ tell us," he said.

We all fell silent as Sarah looked at us finally realizing she was surplus to requirements.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it," she said.

John and I both looked at her. I knew John liked her and didn't want to see him lose his chance.

"No, no, you don't have to go...does she?" John asked turning his head towards Sherlock.

I placed my hands on my hips and waited for his answer, knowing it wouldn't be good.

"You can stay," John and I said at the same time Sherlock told her to go.

I kicked Sherlock in the shin, aggravated by his behavior. He winced and looked pointedly at me before turning his head towards Sarah. After earning a dark look from John he gave in with a dramatic sigh.

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." I said with a smile.

Sarah looked nervously towards Sherlock, who had already turned back towards the photographs. She smiled awkwardly and tried, what she thought, would be a friendlier approach.

"Is it just me or is anyone else starving?" she asked clapping her hands together.

I scrunched up my face as Sherlock sighed closing his eyes.

"Ooh, God," he said in exasperation.

I gave Sarah an apologetic expression. I followed John into the kitchen and stood back as he looked through the fridge and cabinets, of course coming up empty. I sighed as I turned around and snuck out the door. I headed downstairs and into my own flat where I put together some edible snacks and punch. I placed a tea towel over the top and slowly ascended the stairs. I opened the door and headed into the kitchen.

"Hey, Johnny," I said standing still.

John looked up at me a grateful and delighted expression on his face. I shrugged and smiled at him.

"I've brought some finger foods and punch. Now get in there with her before Sherlock does irreparable damage," I said with a laugh.

He took the tray from me and swished into the living room. I followed him shortly after and if the look on Sherlock's face was any indication just in the nick of time. He looked ready to commit murder as Sarah picked up a photograph of the brick wall, the one Dimmock had brought the boys. It was sealed in a clear evidence bag. Sherlock glared at her in utter fury before turning his head away, his teeth bared. I chose that moment to step beside him and place my hand on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment before letting his shoulders slump.

"It's ok Sherlock. Try and remember not everyone can be a genius." I whispered; earning a shiver as my breath touched the nape of his neck.

"So these numbers- it's a cipher?" she asked.

I patted his shoulder and he exhaled deeply. "Exactly." he tightly said.

"And each pair of numbers is a word?" she asked again.

Sherlock's head lifted slowly. I walked over to Sarah and grabbed the bag from her hand in one swift motion. I was to caught up in what was happening to bother with proper manners.

"How did she know that?" Sherlock asked me.

I looked at the picture carefully and almost laughed.

"Two words have already been translated Sher," I said handing him the bag.

Sherlock stared at it momentarily. "John," he said.

John looked over at us from the kitchen. "Yeah?" he asked; a brow raised.

Sherlock stood and joined John in the kitchen. "John, look at this," he said handing over the bag. "Soo Lin at the museum - she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" he said excitement spilling from every word.

I stood behind them and looked over John's shoulder to take another look at the picture. In blue ink, a word had been written over each of the first two symbols in the photograph.

"Nine, Mill," Sherlock read.

John squinted down at the photo shock starting to fill his face. "Does that mean million?" he asked.

Sherlock looked at the photo thoughtfully. "Nine million quid. For what?" he asked; more to himself than anyone else.

He turned around and headed for where he had placed his coat and scarf. "We need to know the end of this sentence," Sherlock said.

John looked at me swiftly before looking back at Sherlock. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Sherlock put on his coat quickly before finally looking at us. "To the museum; to the restoration room," he said. He grimaced in exasperation at himself. "We must have been looking right at it!" he practically shouted.

John frowned deeply, Sarah standing at his side. "At-at what?" he stuttered.

Sherlock stared at him in wild exasperation. "The _book_ John! The book- the key to cracking the cipher!" he said opening the front door. He brandished the photo at John for dramatic effect. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk." he said hurrying out the door.

I stood beside the window and looked down at the swish of his retreating figure.

"Well, that was dramatic!" Sarah said in a laugh.

I couldn't help the smile that covered my face. "That's Sherlock Holmes," I said joining in on the laughter.

John and Sarah relocated to the kitchen leaving me alone in the living room. I decided to let them have some privacy, after all, this was supposed to be a date. I shook my head at the lengths Sherlock would go to if it meant solving a case. I couldn't help but think about what he would be willing to give up if a case demanded it. Was that really someone I could consider a relationship with? Especially after my past relationship drama. Sherlock was a complicated man and I guess it all came down to whether I thought a relationship with him would be worth the complications it would bring me. I placed a hand on my forehead and sighed. Why was I even thinking about a relationship with him? It wasn't like it would ever happen. Sherlock didn't believe in sentiment.

"Lizzie, want some takeout?" John asked standing in the doorway, a menu in hand.

I walked over to him and grabbed the menu. "Of course. You should know better Johnny!" I grinned.

After John phoned the restaurant we all sat at the kitchen table. John had poured us all punch and we sat nibbling on the fruit I had brought. A knock on the front door interrupted our conversation.

"Oh, blimey, that was quick. I'll just pop down." John said.

I handed him some extra cash for the tip and he headed out the door. Sarah and I looked at the experiment covered table and decided to grab some trays and head into the living room. A loud thump came from downstairs and I looked a Sarah quickly I grabbed her by the arm and pushed her into Sherlock's room. I opened the closet and pushed her inside.

"Sarah, stay here and be quiet. No matter what you hear!" I said as I closed the door.

I rushed back into the living room and removed the tray meant for Sarah just as the door opened. I tried to rush away but the man grabbed me knocking his pistol into the side of my head. The light around me faded as darkness covered me.

I blinked several times as I opened my eyes. I tried to move my hand to my aching head but couldn't move my arms. I looked down and finally realized I was sitting in a chair, my hands restrained behind my back. I could feel the heat and hear crackling from somewhere behind me. I squinted looking for John in the darkness around me. I finally found him to my left a bleeding cut on his temple. His head was slumped, having yet to gain consciousness.

"John! John, please be ok. Please." I cried.

I refused to even imagine losing John so instead, I looked around me for Sarah but couldn't find her. I was thankful for that. I knew Sherlock would find her. A groan came from John as he began to wake up.

"John! Oh, thank God." I said; taking in a deep breath.

My body was trembling with fear and adrenaline. He looked at me in confusion before swiftly turning his head left and right presumably searching for Sarah. I caught his attention with a loud cough.

"She is ok." I mouthed silently.

He nodded in relief. "Are you ok Liz?" he said; eyeing my bloody temple.

"Same as you, I'd expect." I sighed.

Suddenly a voice filled the air. One I recognized but couldn't place.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket." the female voice spoke' an accent evident.

John winced as he turned his head towards the voice. A Chinese woman came out of the shadows and I growled remembering her from the Lucky Dragon Theater. Despite the darkness around us she still wore a pair of dark sunglasses. It made me hate her all the more. She walked towards John and I pulled on the rope holding my hands behind me.

"Stay away from him!" I viciously said.

She turned her head towards me with a wicked grin on her face. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes," she said looking back at John.

I tilted my head in confusion, Mr. Holmes? John looked at her startled.

"I...im not Sherlock Holmes." he stuttered.

I let out an exhausted laugh. The woman gave me an incredulous look.

"You daft cow! Does he look like Sherlock bloody Holmes?" I asked in annoyance.

How stupid could this woman get?

She smiled at us humorlessly. "Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," she said; reaching down and removing Johns wallet from his jacket pocket.

I looked at John who was watching me intently. Afraid of what my mouth would get me into. I shook my head at him an apology. I just couldn't help how annoyed she made me. I could only handle so much stupidity. She opened Johns wallet and pulled something from it.

"Debit card, the name of S. Holmes," she said.

Johns' eyes glazed over as he remembered Sherlock lending him his debit card. It seemed so long ago. Why the hell did he still have it?!

"Yes; that's actually not mine. He lent that to me." John said; telling the truth, even if she would never believe him.

She pulled out a folded check from his wallet next. "A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes," she said.

I shook my head trying to pull my hands-free again.

"Yeah, he gave that to me to look after." John tried.

She pulled the circus tickets from his wallet and showed them to him.

"I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him."

The woman sneered down at him. "We heard it from your own mouth."

John had shock and surprise etched on his face. "What?" he asked.

I continued to pull on my binds with no success. We were trapped.

"I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone..." she began to say.

"Did I really say that?" John said cutting her off.

John chuckled weakly. "I suppose there's no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression..." he tried to say before he was cut off by a pistol being pointed at his head.

I gasped loudly and pushed my body forward as much as I possibly could. "No stop! Stop." I begged.

The woman completely ignored me focusing all her attention on John who was cringing away from her. The woman grinned evilly.

"I am Shan," she said earning a panicked stare from John.

"You're... _you're_ Shan." I gasped.

I looked at John in panic, this was bad.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" she asked.

She lifted the gun and cocked it. John looked away whispering something to low for me to make out.

"No please! He isn't Sherlock. Please" I cried tears streaming down my face.

This was it. I was going to lose my best friend. I caught Johns frantic gaze and tried to convey everything I felt for him; a silent plea for him to understand what he meant to me. He struggled against his bonds as Shan stared down at him ominously. Johns breathing became heavy as she moved her finger to the trigger. He stared into the barrel of the gun as she put pressure on the trigger. I closed my eyes in utter fear as a loud click echoed off the stone walls. Relief flooded through me, but only for a moment. John grunted in shock as Shan smiled.

"It tells you that they're not really trying," she said answering her previous question.

John breathed heavily trying to stay in control of his emotions. Shan slipped a clip into the pistol and cocked it before once again pointing it at John. He cringed away from it closing his eyes.

"Okay," John breathily said.

"If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive," she said; looking at him sternly. "Do you have it?" she growled.

"Do I have what?" John asked annoyed.

"The treasure!" Shan spat.

"Listen, lady! We have no clue what you're pattering on about. You don't even have the right man, you fool." I said the pain in my head making my vision blurry.

I was really starting to get pissed off. John looked at me in frustration.

"I would prefer to make certain. And I know just how to do that," she said turning to her men.

One of whom pulls the cover off the large object in the corner. The crossbow from the show. My face paled as I remembered how I had thought it could easily be used as a torture device. An arrow had already been loaded inside. We both stared at it and John sighed deeply. Shan turned back to him a grin on her face.

"Everything in the West has a price, and the price for _her_ life..." she said turning to look at me. "Information." she finished as two men walked towards me.

They picked up my chair and carried me over to the crossbow.

"Im sorry, Liz. I'm so sorry." John said in anguish.

The men sat me down in front of the crossbow, facing the tip of the arrow. I stared ahead of me my focus on the arrow that would soon find a home in my chest. Shan glared down at John.

"Where's the hairpin?" she asked him.

John tugged at his restraints in spite of the pistol pointed at his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about. If you hurt her, I'll kill you." he spat.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people got greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching," she said.

"Please. Please, listen to me. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever you're looking for." John said in exasperation.

Shan stepped away from him and raised her hands above her. "I need a volunteer from the audience!" she said loudly.

John snapped his head back in anger. "No, please. Please," he begged.

Shan walked towards me. "Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do nicely," she said.

I spat at her and sneered; I refused to die looking weak. Shan pulled a knife from her robes and slashed the nearby bag of sand, the only thing stopping the arrow from killing me. I watched as the sand began to pour into the bowl, a clock ticking away the last minutes of my life. John stared up at the emptying bag of sand in horror.

"Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of the NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes pretty companion in a death-defying act." Shan said, dropping a black origami flower in my lap.

A symbol of my impending death.

She bent down to stare right into my eyes. "You've seen this act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." she sneered.

I looked into her eyes and smiled bitterly. "I would have been bored either way. Your performance leaves a lot to be desired."

John started to pull at his restraints frantically, his chair tipping lightly. "I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" he yelled.

I kept my gaze on him and tried to catch his attention. I needed him to know that I was ok, that I could do this; for him.

"I don't believe you," Shan told him.

A voice filled the tunnel; one that sent my heart into a frantic beat. "You should, you know."

Shan spun around squinting into the darkness. A familiar silhouette appeared at the far end of the tunnel.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing like him." Sherlock sarcastically said.

I tried desperately to pull my wrist from the rope that bound them together as Shan pointed her pistol towards Sherlock.

"I will kill you myself! Don't you dare." I spat.

She ignored my protesting and cocked the pistol. Sherlock immediately dodged to the side of the dark tunnel, disappearing into the shadows. One of Shan's thugs hurriedly ran into the darkness after him. John sighed deeply, half relieved half exasperated.

"How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" Sherlock asked from the blackness of the tunnel; earning an eye roll from both John and myself.

How could he be so calm?

I looked at the bag of sand that was steadily spilling. The arrow still stared at me menacingly.

"Late?" John snidely said.

Shan moved the pistol left and right, trying desperately to find Sherlock who was still hiding in the darkness.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel over a thousand meters per second." Sherlock said his voice echoing throughout the tunnel.

"Well..." Shan asked still aiming the pistol at the shadows, where Sherlock's voice had come from.

"Well..." Sherlock began.

I searched for any sign of what Sherlock was up to as Shan's thug reached a large storage container standing at the side of the tunnel. I jumped when Sherlock ran out from behind it and thwacked the man across the stomach with a metal pipe. The man grunted loudly drawing the attention of Shan who spun around and aimed the gun in the direction the sound had come from. Sherlock was immediately hidden in the shadows before Shan had the chance to even registered what had happened. I couldn't help the smug smile that covered my face at her expression of disbelief.

"...the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit _you_." Sherlock cockily finished.

He burst forth from the darkness and ran to the nearby burning dustbin, and kicked it over, once again hiding in the safety of the darkness. John flinched at the loud crash and Shan's eyes widened as she realized it would now be impossible to see that side of the tunnel. She was beginning to lose it her hand; that was still wrapped around the pistol, began to shake. John peered into the tunnel searching frantically for his friend. His head shooting from the darkness and back to me, his fear for me radiating from his entire being. Suddenly the familiar smell of wintergreen filled my senses as Sherlock reappeared squatting down behind me, he began to untie my bonds.

"Are you ok Elisabeth? I found Sarah in my closet, she said you gave yourself up to save her." Sherlock said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Im fine Sher. Let's just get this over with. I'm growing bored." I tried to joke.

I could fill his breath fanning against the skin of my arms as he quietly laughed. However, my escape was cut short as Liang came up behind Sherlock and wrapped a red scarf around his neck. I was getting really tired of his obsession with using a scarf as a murder weapon. Sherlock cried out as he stood up tugging at the scarf. I watched them for a moment before turning back to the arrowhead in front of me. I lifted my gaze to the sandbag and watched it pass the counterbalance weight on its way down into the metal bowl. Behind me, Sherlock had finally shaken Liang for a moment and again tried to crouch down behind me to unbind my hands. Liang hurried towards us and flung another loop of the scarf around Sherlock's neck. He reached out to me as he was pulled away. I screamed out in frustration as tears began to pool in my eyes. I blinked them away refusing to allow Shan to see them. As the men behind me continued to struggle John started to realize Sherlock wasn't going to get enough free time to save me.

"No, John don't try anything stupid," I begged.

I couldn't watch John kill himself trying to save me.

"Shut it, Liz!" John hollered.

I almost laughed at his attitude but kept it inside. John struggled to stand, which was almost impossible with his hands tied in front of him and attached tightly to the underside of the chair, his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. Nevertheless, he managed to stumble forward a couple of paces. I watched him in disbelief, his face strained from trying to stay upright. He was half- carrying and half-dragging the chair with him before he lost his balance and fell onto his side. He looked over at Sherlock who was still struggling with Liang who had once again managed to loop the scarf around Sherlock's neck. I tore my eyes away from John and watched the descending metal ball while the men around me fought to save me. I felt like a damsel in distress and I hated it. My eyes fell on the arrowhead and all hope began to fade away. I closed my eyes and listened to John flailing around below me. I opened my eyes as he groaned and wiggled his way towards me. Suddenly John pulled one foot free from the robes and kicked it upwards hitting a part of the crossbow causing it to shift positions. It twisted slightly to the left just as the ball connected with the bowl. A loud snap erupted causing my heart to stutter. The arrow was released shooting through the air and buried itself in Liang's stomach. He grunted loudly his face full of shock before he slumped forward. My whole body was shaking as I watched him. The adrenaline finally catching up to me. I was completely in shock. It was like I was frozen in fear.

Gasping for breath Sherlock stood up and looked around for Shan. I hadn't even realized she had been missing. I moved my head around tensing up in fear as I looked for her. Distant running footsteps could be heard as Shan left the building. Sherlock looked in the direction of the sound. I knew he wanted to follow her.

"Go," I whispered shakily.

He looked into my eyes debating with himself as he unlooped the scarf from his neck. He headed towards me dropping to his knees in front of me.

"Shh, it's alright," he said soothingly.

He helped me untie my hands and pulled me to his chest. "You're going to be alright. It's over now," he whispered.

I could hear John struggling behind me and spun around. I crawled over to him and helped him free himself.

"Johnny! Oh my god, are you ok?" I said in tears.

"Did you happen to tell Sarah that the next date would be better?" he asked me with a laugh.

I started laughing along with him hysterically. "Oh John, I'm pretty sure she is already running for the hills," I said lying on the ground and covering my face.

I felt someone remove my arms and looked into the eyes of Sherlock. "You're in shock," he mumbled.

I gave him my best sarcastic smile. "Ya think?" I smiled at his weary expression. "I'm fine Sherlock, I promise," I said.

Sherlock pulled me to my feet and looked into the direction Shan had fled wistfully.

"You could have gone after her. I wouldn't have blamed you." I whispered, holding onto him tightly.

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, something that completely surprised both John and myself. "I'm right where I need to be," he said.

I let go of Sherlock and grabbed the scarf he had dropped to the ground. I carried it over and much to both men's amusement; dropped it into the fire.

"There, I feel better now," I said with a laugh.

Later, the police had finally arrived to clean up the mess. Dimmock was waiting beside a police car just outside the tunnel. John put his arm around my shoulder as we exited. Dimmock moved to speak to me, but Sherlock stepped forward.

"She's fine," he said.

Dimmock frowned as John and I walked past him. Sherlock stayed behind to speak with him. After a few short words, he followed us to a nearby cab. John pulled me inside and I rested my head on his shoulders all the adrenaline finally leaving me. I closed my eyes and felt the cab lurch forward.

I woke up on the couch in 221B, the sun filtering in through the blinds. I covered my face with the quilt someone had sweetly placed over me. I remembered falling asleep during the cab ride home. Which means one of the boys must have carried me upstairs. I could hear rustling in the kitchen and decided to get up for some coffee. I stood up and folded the quilt over the arm of the couch. I walked into the kitchen stretching to find John sitting at the table, Sherlock standing behind him filling two cups with coffee.

"I hope one of those belongs to me. I feel like I'm guest starring on The Walking Dead." I yawned.

John smiled against his cup and shook his head lightly. Sherlock handed me a cup and slyly looked me over. I ran my fingers through my hair and blushed. I ignored the smirk on his face and looked over John's shoulder. He was looking at the photograph with the translated message.

"So, nine mill..." John sighed.

"Million," I said drinking my coffee and taking a seat beside him.

"Million, yes; Nine million for a jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway." John read.

I looked at Sherlock who nodded slowly. "An instruction to all their London operatives," Sherlock told us.

"Mmm," John hummed.

"A message; what they were trying to reclaim," I said reaching for the piece of toast that Sherlock was handing over to me.

I thanked him with a bright grin and almost devoured it whole. He shook his head and popped two more pieces of bread into the toaster.

"What, a jade pin?" John asked.

I closed my eyes remembering a green pin in the hair of a certain secretary. I shared a knowing smirk with Sherlock.

"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout." Sherlock said, buttering the toast that had just shot up from the toaster.

"Hang on: a hairpin worth nine million pounds?" John squeaked.

I laughed at his expression. "Apparently," I said.

"Why so much?" John asked us.

I stood up and handed a piece of the buttered toast to Sherlock with a raised brow. He reluctantly began to eat it. I dusted the crumbs from my hands.

"Depends who owned it," Sherlock said in between bites.

 __ _ **Shad Sanderson Bank**_

We headed inside the bank and towards Van Coons former office.

"Two operatives based in London. They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something: a little hairpin." Sherlock stated as we headed up the elevator.

"Worth nine million pounds," John said still shocked by the price of a tiny hairpin.

"Eddie Van Coon was the thief. _He_ stole the treasure when he was in China." Sherlock explained.

I stayed quiet and just listened. I already knew everything anyway and unlike Sherlock, I don't always feel the need to flaunt my knowledge.

"How'd you know it was Van Coon and not Lukis? Even the killer didn't know that." John asked in amazement.

We stepped through a set of revolving doors.

"Because of the soap," I mumbled.

Sherlock and John stopped and looked at me carefully. I sighed and gave them a smug look. They both stare at me blankly for a second before we continue into the office. Amanda was sitting at her desk squirting a bit of hand lotion onto her hands. Sherlock pulled out his mobile phone and dialed the number to Van Coons office. I watched with a smile as Amanda answered her now ringing phone.

"Amanda," she answered rubbing the lotion into her hands.

"He bought you a present," Sherlock said over the phone.

I leaned up against the wall as Sherlock and John stepped beside her desk. I kept out of the conversation, I knew both men could handle it. After hearing a few gasps from Amanda I headed out the door. As I exited the building my phone started to buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and froze. I reread the message and felt my whole world crash down.

 _ **"I hope General Shan didn't give you too much trouble, my love. Don't worry, I've handled the problem. Can't wait to see you! XOXO, J"**_

My throat became dry as I stood frozen in place. I could hear John and Sherlock coming up behind me and debated whether I should tell them or not. I chose quickly and pushed my phone back into my pocket. I plastered a smile on my face and hailed a cab. There was no way I could tell them about him. That would be getting them involved and he would surely kill them both. How had he found me? I had taken every precaution, I should have known better. I'll never be free of him. Now I had to decide, would I stay or go? As that thought crossed my mind my phone buzzed again.

 ** _Don't try and leave Darling. You know how much it upset me the last time. Stay where you are or your new friends will suffer. Don't worry, we'll be together again soon. J._**

I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat and hopped into the cab. I could hear Sherlock and John talking beside me but their words wouldn't register. I looked over at them and couldn't keep the frown from my face. I couldn't tell them and I couldn't run. I would just have to wait until he revealed himself. Then I could tell them and I would help take him down. I looked ahead of us as we sped away, back towards Baker Street.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Two gunshots from the apartment above filled the silence. I jumped dropping the tea kettle I was just about to fill. What the hell was he up to now? I exited my flat shaking my head as I slowly ascended the stairs. I felt no need to rush; Sherlock had been without a case for too long, something like this was bound to happen. I swung open the door to 221B and stepped inside. Sherlock was slumped in his armchair, his head slumped on the back. He was sprawled low in the chair his legs stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles. I smiled at his blue silk dressing gown and bare feet. He was completely losing it without something to tame his wild mind. His eyes were closed after a few moments he opened them and gazed up towards the ceiling. I walked over to him with my arms crossed in annoyance. I tapped my foot as the door downstairs opened.

"Sherlock, love. You cannot just open fire inside your flat," I said with a smile on my face.

I glanced at the bullet-riddled wall above the sofa where he had painted a yellow smiley face with the spray paint from the 'Blind Banker' case. The can was sitting on the coffee table. Sherlock sighed and raised his left hand which held the pistol. He pointed it at the smiley face and - without even looking in that direction- fired two more shots. I stood stock-still my PTSD flaring at the sudden loud noise. I held my fisted hands at my side and took several deep breaths. Sherlock eyed me thoughtfully before looking at his handy work, firing a third shot. I covered my ears and backed away from him. As he fired a fourth time John bolted into the room with his fingers placed firmly in his ears.

"What the hell are you doing?" John yelled.

I stepped closer to him and took in a shaky breath. I steadied my nerves and stared at Sherlock in anger. He had nearly thrown me into a panic attack.

"Bored," Sherlock whined.

John squinted in disbelief. "What?"

Sherlock sprung up from his chair causing John to recoil and once again cover his ears.

"Bored!" Sherlock loudly said.

"No," I said stepping forward.

Sherlock ignored me completely and switched the pistol to his right hand. He turned towards the smiley face, he fired at it again. Then swung his arm behind his back, twisting slightly to his right he fired at the wall from behind his back.

"Bored! Bored!" he angrily said with each shot.

As he brought his arm back around, I hurried forward and snatched the gun from his hand. I stood in front of Sherlock and glared menacingly. I lifted the gun towards the smiley face and without breaking eye contact with Sherlock, fired it. The bullet soared through the air and met its target. Right between the eyes exactly where I wanted it to go.

"No!" I yelled in frustration.

I handed the gun to John who quickly removed the clip while Sherlock walked towards the sofa sulking. I placed my hands on my hips and stared at him.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes! You cannot just fire at Mrs. Hudson's walls whenever you're bored. She is going to be so pissed." I yelled at him flailing my arms around in anger.

He sent me a glare. "Where did you learn my full name?" he childishly asked.

I smirked shrugging. "John."

He looked at John with betrayal on his face before throwing himself on the sofa.

"What? I don't keep secrets from Lizzie" John laughed.

"Don't know whats gotten into the criminal classes. Good job i'm not one of them," Sherlock said, ignoring Johns previous comment.

John locked the pistol into a small safe on the dining table and then straightened up. "So, you take it out on the wall?" he asked.

Sherlock stood and ran his hand over the smiley on the wall. "Ah, the wall had it coming." He said turning sideways and dramatically flopping himself down onto the sofa.

His head landed on the cushion at one end and his feet dug into the arm of the sofa at the end nearest the windows. I sat on the coffee table in front of the couch and watched him amusement clear on my face.

"What about that Russian case?" John asked removing his coat.

Sherlock pushed with his feet to shove himself further along the sofa and into a slightly more upright position and then started to knead the arm of the sofa with his toes. I sighed deeply and stepped over to the sofa. I lifted his head and sat down, placing it in my lap. I ran my fingers through his curls he jerked slightly before snuggling his face into my lap.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." Sherlock said a slight hum to his voice.

I smiled innocently as John eyed us, my hands were still running through Sherlock's hair. I looked down at Sherlock's face his eyes were closed, a peaceful expression on his face. I gently massaged his scalp with my nails, a small growl escaped his lips when I stopped to listen to John.

"Anything in? I'm starving." John opened the fridge door as Sherlock looked up at me expectantly.

I smiled shaking my head as I started to massage his scalp again.

"Oh, f…" John stuttered slamming the fridge door closed.

He slumped against the door for a moment, his head lowered, then he straightened up and opened the door again. I bent my head down to Sherlock's ear.

"I think John found your head," I whispered a laugh in my voice.

The edge of Sherlock's lips twitched before he winked at me.

"It's a head," John called out from the kitchen. "A severed head!" John continued with a gasp.

"Just tea for us, thanks," Sherlock answered. John walked back into the living room his face pale.

"No, there's a head in the fridge."

Sherlock answered calmly without looking at him, "Yes."

I slapped his head lightly earning a groan from him.

"I told him to at least bag it, but he said that would ruin the experiment. Blame Molly, she is the one who keeps giving in to his every request," I told John.

"A bloody head!" John hollered.

Sherlock rolled over to look at John. I grunted as his head slammed into my stomach.

"Oi!" I said pushing him away from me.

I tried to get up with no success he pushed me back down and put his head back into my lap.

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock stroppily asked.

"You don't mind, do you?" he added innocently.

I hid my grin and looked at Sherlock's curls running my fingers through them again.

"Im measuring the coagulation of saliva after death," Sherlock said waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the nearby laptop. "I see you written up the taxi driver case."

I held in a giggle and tried to get up again with no success. "Would you stop that?" Sherlock whispered to me.

I smirked at him as John spoke again from the kitchen.

"Uh, yes," John said after giving one last look through the fridge.

He walked over to Sherlock's armchair and sat down with a huff.

"A study in pink. Nice!" Sherlock said.

"Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone-there was a lot of pink. Did you like it?" John asked feigning nonchalance.

"Erm, no," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock!" I spat pushing him off me.

I stood up and made my way to where John was sitting.

"I loved it, Johnny, as always you have a way with words," I said patting his shoulder.

Sherlock grabbed a magazine from the table and resituated himself on the couch. I stood behind him as Sherlock grumbled to himself.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered." John asked surprised.

I squeezed his shoulders as Sherlock lowered his magazine and glared at us.

"Flattered?" Sherlock asked.

He raised his index finger and begun to narrate a passage from the blog. "Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things."

I sighed loudly and took a seat in Johns chair. I curled up and pulled my phone from my pocket. I might as well entertain myself, Sherlock was only just beginning his little tirade.

"Now, hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a…" John tried.

Sherlock quickly interrupted, clearly on a roll. "Oh, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way!" Sherlock said standing from the couch.

"Look, it doesn't matter to me who the Prime Minister is.." Sherlock said before John interjected.

"I know…"

I shook my head lightly and started playing a game on my phone.

"...or who's sleeping with who," Sherlock said.

"Or whether the earth goes round the sun," John mumbled.

My head snapped up quickly. "Wait...What?!" I asked with a laugh.

Sherlock glared at me. "Not that again. It's not important."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing hysterically. I avoided Sherlock's angry gaze and hid my smile behind my hand.

"Not impor…." John gasped shifting his position to face Sherlock.

"It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?" John asked. "Lizzie?" he turned to me exasperated.

I raised a hand in the air with a playful smile. "Hey! Keep me out of this. I'm a neutral party." I said.

John groaned and turned back to Sherlock who was now wearing an amused grin. When Sherlock met Johns exasperated gaze he put the heel of his palms against his eyes and groaned loudly.

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

John sent me a questioning look as Sherlock continued. "Listen…" Sherlock said pointing a finger at his head. "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful...really useful," Sherlock grimaced before continuing. "Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?" he finished.

John stared at him for a minute trying to reel himself in, unsuccessfully. "But it's the solar system!" he cried out unable to stop himself.

Sherlock briefly buried his head in his heads with a sigh. "Oh, hell! What does that matter?!" Sherlock spat looking at John in frustration. "So, we go round the sun! If we went round the moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear…." Sherlock ground out throwing his hands in the air and waving them around his head as he recited a line from a children's poem. "...it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots." He said ruffling his hair with both hands in annoyance.

He glared at John, and I readied myself for his inevitable hurtful outburst. I could feel it coming, and yet again, John wasn't ready.

"Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." he spat.

"And there it is ladies and gentlemen," I whispered to myself.

Sherlock snapped his head towards me with a questioning glare. I met his gaze and shook my head in disappointment. I couldn't understand why he had to be so hurtful. John stood by him and this was how he was being repaid. Petulantly Sherlock threw himself onto the sofa and turned himself away from us. He pulled his dressing gown around him and curled up into a ball. I sighed and looked at John who had his lips pursed in anger. I stood up and started towards him, but he shoved past me and headed out the door. I fisted my hands and glared at Sherlock's back. I stomped towards the door in anger and grabbed my coat. I pulled it on roughly, annoyance filling me from head to toe.

"Stupid sociopath," I mumbled as I buttoned myself up.

I opened the door before Sherlock even noticed I was still there.

"Where are you going?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Out. I need some air. You were a real ass, Holmes," I spat.

He started to scoot off the couch but I was out the door before his feet hit the floor. I passed Mrs. Hudson on the stairs with a stiff nod. Once I was outside I had no idea where I planned on going. I was angry and frustrated. My feelings for Sherlock were beyond complicated. Even though I knew his personality was volatile at best, it still hurt every time he proved it. It goes to show that a relationship with him would be impossible. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts I almost missed the black car that was driving slowly next to me. I stopped in my tracks and turned towards the car. The back window lowered and the face of a beautiful young woman appeared.

"Get into the car Ms. Riley. You have a very important individual who would like to speak with you," the woman firmly said.

I dug my nails into my hands to keep my anger from boiling over. I knew exactly who wanted to speak to me. John had let slip a similar experience. I was so sick of the Holmes's and their king of the world attitudes. I slipped into the car and crossed my arms.

"Best not to keep him waiting," I said with malice.

The car lurched forward and I kept my eyes on the seat in front of me.

"He'll be so pleased you were agreeable," the woman said her eyes glued to the screen of her phone.

"Yes, I live to please," I said.

The woman smiled but kept her eyes on her phone. Sometime later we began to pull up to a small restaurant. The car stopped and the man in the passenger seat was out in a flash to hold open my door. I stepped out and looked around. We were in a nice neighborhood. I was pleasantly surprised. John had mentioned a sketchy warehouse. It made me nervous, what was his game plan? I started to follow the very large man who had opened my door when my phone started to go off. I slid my finger across the button and answered before anyone could stop me.

"Sherlock?" I answered.

Sherlock's voice was rushed. "Elisabeth? Are you ok?"

My brows rose in fear. "Yes, why wouldn't I be? Are you ok?" I questioned.

He let out a sigh and I could almost see his face in my mind. Lines of worry etched into his forehead his eyes guarded but clear.

"There was an explosion across the street. We are ok, but I can't reach John," he said.

I let out a huff of relief. "John's fine im sure. I'll be there in a few, ok. I'm currently being held against my will. But, not to worry." I said in annoyance.

Sherlock's breathing hitched. "What is going on?" he asked.

"Nothing much. Just a black car, a beautiful woman, and a fancy restaurant. Nothing I can't handle." I said giving as many hints as I could.

The woman reached out for the phone and I rolled my eyes. If she wanted to be grabby I would just tell Sherlock exactly who I was with.

"Listen, Im being forced to end the call, but I'll be sure to give your brother your warmest regards," I said handing the phone over.

The woman took the phone and stepped away. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but she spoke quickly and with a lot of nodding. With one final shake of her head, she hung up and handed the phone back to me. The man behind me pushed me towards the entrance of the restaurant. Guess it's finally time to meet the eldest Homes.


End file.
